


White Lies & Winter Blues

by PaperAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Comedy of Errors, Dean/Cas Tropefest, Domestic Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, Mildly Dubious Consent, Omega Dean, Romantic Comedy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, True Mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-08 15:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18625714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: When Castiel drives by a car wreck, he should’ve heeded the warning, ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions.’He’s a nurse, it’s a record-breaking, cruel winter, and upon seeing the driver hypothermic and near-death—his instincts kick in. Cas doesn't think, he jumps into action to save the omega.Once the ambulance arrives, Castiel joins the ride. Then in the hospital room, he keeps a watchful eye over the omega's treatment and care.  All under the guise of being ‘his alpha.’ Castiel’s plan was innocent, wishing for a quick recovery, followed by quicker exit.Except, he misses his shot. The omega awakes and the nurse beats Cas to the punch, with the declaration, “You’re lucky your mate found you in time!” causing all hell to break loose.There are no questions. A starry-eyed and love-struck Dean Winchester automatically believes the accident caused amnesia, that Casis his mate.This wasn’t supposed to happen! Now entangled in his own lies—still reeling from the unexpected discovery they’re true mates—Cas feels helpless. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do! Besides...playing along.Paving his road to hell, one good intention at a time.





	1. Two Roads Intersect in a Yellow Wood

**Author's Note:**

> [](https://ibb.co/cdFWfw)   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> All my heart and mushy, gushy love forever and ever goes to [Fishie](http://whataboutthefish.tumblr.com/) for editing this fic and being my life support, my rock and my wifey. I don't know what I'd do without youuuu <3 <3
> 
> Working with [Deancebra](https://deancebra-art.tumblr.com/) as my artist this Tropefest has been more fantastic than words can say! Sharing creative vibes with such a talented person and being blessed with every piece of beautiful artwork enriches this piece. And it makes me happy and giddy. Love you, darling!
> 
>  **Ann's Notes:** Being part of Dean/Cas Tropefest this year has been amazing! Not only am I partial to this family of challenges, but I adore the mods and the experience. I was having a bit of a rough go in the ways of motivation and confidence, and it was because of this challenge and the lovely people associated with it that I was able to regain my poise writing.
> 
> Unending thank yous, Muse and Jojo, for inspiring me again <3

****“I’m just sayin’, if it’s global warming, it wouldn’t be this cold—”

“Dammit, _climate change_!” Dean snipped out the correction, for what felt like the millionth time!  Arguing made the trip go faster as he inched along the tundra-like back roads.  “I can’t tell if you’re trying to piss me off or what.  Because you’re not this friggin ignorant, dumbass.”

Jo snorted loudly, not even attempting to muffle her laughter on the other line.  Well, that answered his question.  “Yeah, yeah.  Sorry, I thought I’d make your drive entertaining.”

Dean groaned around the words, “Trading rage out for stress?  I dunno about your logic...”

“What _I_ don’t know is why you’re even on the road to begin with!  You saw the weather advisories!  It isn’t just schools closing—they called off all businesses, banks, hell, the mail isn’t coming.  And yet, here we are.”  She deadpanned, “With _your dumbass_ out for a scenic jaunt.  You’re unbelievable!”

Dean couldn't argue—it wasn’t only the roads that were a nightmare.  The gusting winds did a banner job kicking up more snow that never ceased falling, creating new mountain-like drifts billowing back over the pavement.  The frost creeping in on the edges of the windows—no matter how high he blasted the heart—they served as another reminder of the temperatures plummeting down to forty-below.  
  
Everything under the glistening, almost-ethereal-like snowfall was frozen solid.  With at least a half-inch of rock-hard, unforgiving ice.  Nothing was pretty about _that_.  
  
Dean learned that lesson the hard way that morning, attempting to shovel a path in his driveway.  Luckily, when he took his spill and tumbled forward, he fell into another mound of snow.  This winter was a _bitch_!  
  
When his gaze flashed down to his speedometer, he realized Jo’s banter had revved him up in more ways than one—  
  
—He should’ve paid better attention, not gone on auto-pilot, fuck—

“Gotta go.”  He didn’t wait for a goodbye, he hung up.  Praying Jo didn’t hear the fleck of distress in his voice.

Right before his eyes, a white-out engulfed, well, _everything._  The world as he knew it up and vanished!  Dean couldn’t see a damn thing in front of him, he couldn't see beyond his dashboard—  
  
To make shit worse, he was going _too fast._

Fuckin’ hell—slamming on the brakes wasn't an option in the heavy snow!  Even if he tried for traction, he didn’t stand a chance against the sheet of ice giving his tires a grand ol' ‘screw you!’  Slowly, praying like hell, Dean pushed against the pedal, and swallowed hard...  
  
He already knew: if cars were stopped in front of him, the glaring red of their brake lights would be smothered by the blinding white, illuminated or not.  He couldn’t see shit! He was the distracted friggin moron, driving like it was another chill, summer day, Dean _knew_ he’d mow them down, the eerie and ominous unknown knotted his stomach.

Teeth grinding together, heart ready to pound through his chest, flying blindly into traffic, his morbid thoughts wandered: what traffic—what cars?  Hell, what _road_?  What planet was he on—it sure as shit didn’t feel like Earth!  
  
He fucking hated winter!

Moments before a rip-roaring panic attack, Dean regained just enough visibility.  Just enough to suck air into his lungs to, you know, _not_ pass out.  
  
Thank God, Dean could _finally_ breathe!  He _was_ the only car navigating the back roads.  No one was headed towards him for a head-on collision, nor was he set-up to slam into a slow car.  
  
Coasting solo, without so much as a case of tailing gating going down, gave him a sense of relief.

That same relief...it _barely_ lasted a second.

The visibility he'd rejoiced in now rocked him with terror.  With his lights flashing against a yellow warning sign—dead ahead—the too-late-clarity bit him in the ass.  
  
Where the hell had that come from?!  
  
“You have got it be kidding me!”  
  
Oh yeah, that was the sound of fear.  His voice trembled with it.  There was no one else to impress, no reason to silence the frustrated, ugly shouts and curses exploding when he strangled the wheel: he was screwed, and he knew it.  
  
Dean felt like an idiot, but what grated him was that he couldn't _fix it._   There was no last-minute steering, no badass driving move he could pull.  Only the impending fear.  
  
He’d epically fucked up: his speed was dangerous.  On a _good day._  
  
After the caution sign flew by, Dean barreled closer and closer towards the sharp curve.  The road hugged the landscape so tightly, it bent out of view, Dean felt goddamn helpless, _knowing_ he'd never see the other side of that turn.  
  
Not while the pavement was sealed over in this winter-hellstorm, no, there was _no way_ to stop—not a thing he could do—

All Dean could come up with was letting go of the pedals.  Hoping against hope the snow banks slowed his momentum, while he braced for impact, shielding his eyes—  
  
The sound of shattering glass and crushing, mangled metal was _deafening_.

\-----------------------------

“911, what is your emergency?”

“Hi, I’m reporting an accident on Sutton, right passed—oh God, is he okay?  Is he _dead_?!  No, we—”

“Ma’am, _please,_ remain calm.  I need you to give me your location, we’ll be sending units to cordon off the area and an ambulance.  Are you two safe?  Is your vehicle’s hazard lights on and moved completely out of traffic?”

“Sutton, after Ada Drive.  We’re fine, he’s so cold!  I-I don’t know if it’s the weather or he died!”

“…”

“What do we do?  Can we help him?  Say something!”

“It’s best not to move them in case of a spinal injuries due to the accident.  Sutton and Ada, that reported area is very, very…remote.  No one should be driving that stretch of road in these conditions.  He’s lucky you found him.  Very lucky.”

“I don’t understand— _hey_ , wait, Cas!  Dammit... Why are you taking the phon—”

“Hello, we put you on speaker.  I’m a nurse and while I comprehend protocol, he’s not only injured; he's hypothermic.  Your discussion of ‘luck’ as a trained dispatcher is both unhelpful and irrelevant.  We need information, instructions of the proper actions in _this_ case.  Do your job: what’s our next step?  How can we save his life?”  
  
“...”  
  
“No matter how ill-suited an employee, you _must—_ ”

“I was reaching out to get an approximation.  Until they arrive, do your best to keep him warm…I have no idea how long it’ll take for emergency units to reach you.”

\-------------------------

Castiel was beyond frustrated with 911.  His frustrations escalated towards the territory of irate by the end and he hung up, but now wasn’t the time to file a complaint.  There were higher stakes before him.  
  
Shoving Charlie’s phone back, with a determined, “I’m taking it from here,” and ripping his coat off happened all at once.

When her jaw dropped open, Charlie could feel the flash-freeze of ice, practically nipping at her tongue.  
  
After all, her mouth was about the only part of her not bundled up in the winter storm.  She demanded, “Are you gonna hop in there and cuddle a corpse, dude?!  I understand the call of duty and all, but—”

“Exactly.  It's my duty, I’m saving him.  I can scent him—he’s injured, but alive.  Today, the real threat is the cold.”  Cas looped the thick fabric of his coat around to shield his arm—punching out the window’s remaining glass, clearing his way in.  
  
The ultimate quandary: which was Cas’ better option?  Collecting and carrying the man out—or going in?  
  
As he deliberated and Charlie watched in shock, Cas words were absent: “We have no idea how long he’s been out here,” trying to get a closer view.  He needed more information, he needed it fast!  
  
With only so much to work with, the alpha took note of what he already knew.

The car was wrapped around a pole and the damage was momentous.  
  
Gauging the distance from the road, it had rolled no less than twice.  There were no airbags in this vintage car, the seatbelt was the only protection the man had against the warping, crippling and inevitable destruction of the vehicle.  
  
While the jaws of life could’ve made an impact getting the driver to safety—Cas _was_ facing problems.

The driver’s side door wouldn’t give, not a goddamn inch!  He circled the rear—slipping and sliding the whole way—to attempt access on the passenger’s.  While the door was a no-go, having crumbled inward even further, Castiel wasn’t giving up.  
  
Grumbling, ‘ _to hell with it_ ,’ was an afterthought, since his arm rose on instinct, bashing out the glass.

Cas dove into the car, shimmying across the bench seat to take an up-close look at the man’s injuries and see if he could help.

Since the ‘real help’ didn’t have an estimated arrival time.

“Wait!  Did you say what I thought you said?!“  In the background, just barely, Charlie asked in wonderment, “You can actually _smell him_?”

Not only was her comment delay obvious, but Cas hadn’t thought it odd until she repeated his words aloud.  
  
After all, their noses slowed down in the cold.  Eventually, the sense of smell ceased functioning in sub-zero temperatures, unless the intention was deliberate: a sniff from inches away.  Losing one's acute nose was a survival mechanism, to keep other senses and organs working at peak performance as a priority in life-and-death conditions.  
  
Their brutal surroundings was a cut-out piece of a record-breaking winter, certainly qualifying.

Right now, inside the cab and closer, yes—Castiel could most _definitely_ smell him.  The fact he previously could from the outside too when he shouldn't, didn’t seem alarming—because Cas was too focused—his desire to _fix this_ escalated in urgency.

“Yes, Charlie.  Very strongly, in fact.”  He didn’t hold back, or else she would hound him.  
  
That’s when his tunnel-vision kicked on.

Feeling clammy cold skin and honing in on his wrist, Cas counted the beats—getting a read on the man’s pulse...his finding’s weren’t good.  
  
There was blood.  Enough that it made the alpha’ stomach roll over but he was excellent in emergencies.  Once again, instead of grasping in the dark for an answer: Cas followed his nose.  He tore up a shirt that had drifted to the front seat and hadn’t flown out the window during the crash, using the strips as makeshift bandages.

He easily discovered an unforgiving break, one piercing through both flesh and jeans—for that gruesome sight alone, Cas was glad he’d passed out.

He worked as quickly as he could, wound by wound—discarding any old blood-soaked fabrics, frozen solid from the moment they were grazed by the bitter air.

Which brought Cas to his second task.

“Charlie!”  He shouted out the window, “Give me anything— _anything—_ you’re wearing that’s not utter necessity.  Then, please, return to the car and crank the heat up.”  His order had gotten her attention, she was already doing just that.  While Cas pulled the unconscious man closer towards him (confident his neck wasn’t broken) he added, “When you see their lights, direct them over here.”

“Got it!  Getting naked and then flashing the ambulance!”  Layers were already flying off, landing inside the cab, Cas using a combination of body heat and the mountain of covers to stave off frostbite.  Shivering and down to next to nothing, Charlie waved at him, “Do what you’ve got to!” and ran back towards their vehicle.  
  
“Thank you!” he tried to shout after her, God, he hoped Charlie knew how much he appreciated her and the lengths she went to when his extremes became...well, extreme.

And Cas _would_ do what he had to.

The more he took in the omega’s scent (yes, it took him a while to even scent the man was omega over the other chaos in the car) the more invested he became.  The more vigorously he rubbed up and down his unscathed arms, attempting to encourage his circulation flow.  To restart his body.  Castiel hated how he felt like ice, like another piece of the outdoor landscape.

He hated it.

Yet, something remarkable happened—something he hadn’t been prepared for.

No, the omega _didn’t_ regain consciousness.

However, the need for heat had his body closer, curving towards Cas’ and—  
  
If he hadn’t see it with his own eyes, Cas would have thought his misadventure ended with him succumbing to the cold.  But it was the omega, his nose, actively sniffing the air—drawn in towards Cas like a magnet.  It made him quiver from a place that had nothing to do with the frigidness of their surroundings.

Thinking back to what Charlie said: it was an anomaly.

It was almost unheard of, being able to pick up scents in this weather up close, let alone where Cas had stood when he’d first sniffed out the omega...there was a connection here.  An inexplicable reason why he couldn’t release this man from his arms unless there was a miraculously recovery the moment he let go.

Despite the pair never sharing a word, something existed between them, and the moment Cas saw the flashing lights of police escorting an ambulance in the distance?  While the figure of Charlie waved them down and guided them towards the wreck, a figure in the background: Castiel made an impulsive choice  
  
This situation had already been a clusterfuck, the hypothermia was dire, he highly _doubted_  they’d have reason to be suspicious.

“Sir!  Sir?”  One of the cops was peering in the window to see both of them, his confusion evident.

Before he could say anything, Castiel interrupted with a panicked, “Thank God you’re _finally_ here!  My omega was on his way home, and when he was late—I got worried and went looking for him.  I-I followed my gut, what if I hadn’t?!  He _needs help_ , he needs—!”

“I understand, sir, we’ll take care of your mate!” he swiftly assured him, waving another officer over, who was carrying the proper machinery.

Charlie was flabbergasted.  
  
She was wide-eyed, mouthing over the horrible-screeching sound ' _the fuck are you doing?_!’ although, she didn’t look particularly intimidating—shivering in her jeans and tank top, having donated to the mass of clothes inside the ruined cab.

Cas locked eyes with his best friend.  He _had_ to make sure, make _damn sure,_ she understood: ’ _play along_ ,’ and thoughtfully added a, _’please_?'

Throwing her arms in the air, once the door was torn off and they were free, Cas saw Charlie had made a perfect circle with her pacing.  Right before her jerky shivers got the best of her and she escaped into the heated car.

Immediately behind the ripped-away door was a strategically placed gurney and neck brace.  The paramedics worked fast and Cas was able to assist, both in knowledge and strength—helping to maneuver him over to the flat surface.  Seeing the extent of his injuries laid out…it made Cas cringe, but he knew firsthand this was another day at the office.

They’d be able to fix him up right away.

The bumps, stops, false-starts and spinning wheels of the gurney physically pained Cas to watch.  Eventually, they were able to load him into the ambulance and waved Cas on, “Come on, we have to go, now!”

Cas flashed a wide mischievous grin to Charlie, a quick cheeky glance none of the emergency personnel could see that said, _’See what I did?’_  and he received rolled eyes in response from where she was watching, hanging out the rolled-down window.

“Please, be safe!  And let me know how your _mate_  is!” Charlie called out right as the door slammed shut, and they were taking off.

He could see her as they drove away—she was a flash of agitated ginger, flailing arms, pulling at her hair in frustration.  Castiel supposed it would be difficult to have a friend like him.  Charlie gave it as good as she got it, though.

When Castiel turned back to the pallid figure in front of him, he remembered exactly why he needed to commit to this.  He needed to see this through—part of him refused a cliff-hanger, he needed to be here, _be there_ for this man.

It was a double-edged sword; how critical his condition was.

On one hand, they were so busy tending to him, fighting like hell to get him stable, they didn’t have time to ask his name.  Because Cas had no idea what his mate’s name _was._  
  
...let alone his medical history, medication list or allergies, dear God—

On the other hand?  They _were_ fighting like hell to get him stable.

Castiel was on edge, knowing this winter storm had already claimed a dozen lives, he refused to allow it this one.  Not before he even got a chance to know him.

\-----------------------

Dean heard the beeping.

He felt the pain, but it was numbed.  Like…it was a blurry truth.  He knew it was there, but the painkillers made it easy to compartmentalize and save the knowledge for later.  His mouth was dry.  There was numbness and tingling through his body, but more than anything—

_That scent—_

He gasped into the room, sucking in as much of the air as possible, like it would be his last—Dean had no idea where he was, what was happening and—

Very suddenly, the source of that amazing scent was over him.  Grabbing his hand and squeezing.  “Thank God you’re okay.  It was touch and go for a bit.  You were in a car accident, do you…remember?”

Dean heard the word, _duh_ , but he was so damn distracted by the shimmering quality of the guy’s blue eyes.  The hypnotizing effect of their sparkle and the thumb stroking his hand had Dean blurting out, “Alpha—?” in both confusion and a dawning realization.

They had him on some damn good drugs...

“Oh, is he awake?”  Another voice coming somewhere from the hallway called out, and grew closer, their volume rising, “That’s wonderful!  I’m so thrilled you pulled through, you certainly were lucky you had an attentive mate who sought you out in the storm.  Otherwise, you wouldn’t be with us.  Cas has been very helpful today.”

Dean did a double-take, as did the nurse checking his blood pressure.

“Mate?”  He gaped openly at ‘Cas,’ feeling dizzy as fuck.  “Oh my _God_ , I hit my head, _I don’t remember_!  Goddammit, shit, shit, _shit—_ ”

He was panicking, squirming, feeling like his damn soul was about to leave his body in horror—to the point where the nurse gave up taking his vitals—they’d spiked through the roof.

Dean grabbed Cas’ hand and hauled him in, close, swearing up and down, “I didn’t mean to!  I’m sorry about whatever put me on the road today.  I-I’m hopin’ against hope this amnesia is only temporary.”  He pulled the alpha in, the one who smelled so sweet, and kissed him on the cheek, “How the fuck could I forget someone like you?”

And he felt himself begin to hyperventilate.

“A-Anxiety attacks,” the alpha stammered out, like Dean’s alarm was contagious and he'd caught it, “And my nose can tell, the pain is returning.”

“It is about that time,” the nurse hummed her confirmation after glancing at the wall’s clock.  “Okay, Dean.  Ready for the good stuff?”

He tightened his hold on Cas hand and swallowed hard.  “No, I-I don’t wanna forget even _more_ , I—”  Dean whipped around (too fast, oww, that friggin hurt!) and focused solely on his mate, “I can’t lose anymore time.  Not with you, gorgeous.”

“He’s such a sweet-talker, isn’t he?” Cas laughed over to the woman, leaning down and kissing the top of his hand.  “It’s okay, darling.  If anything, sleep could help your...memories return.”

Dean, with his eyes growing heavy, thought that sounded like a great idea.

You know what else sounded like a great idea?

Reaching out, cupping Cas’ cheeks and kissing him.

Sure, it was sloppy, uncoordinated and he surprised the hell out of him, but it was warm and…sweet.  Oh, then the drugs kicked back in.

Dean flopped back to the bed, complaining, “I want you to join meee,” then changed his tone with a suggestive shimmy of his shoulders, “Hop in here and keep me warm…”

Well, his alpha looked like he was considering it.  That was a step in the right direction!  Dean continued to be a little shit, while he _could,_  while he was still conscious: “C’mon, you’ve been so _helpful_.  Make yerself more helpful and crawl in here, mm, you smell amazing—I can show you my appreciation like a good mate, I’ll suck your—”

“ _Dean._ That's the narcotics speaking, let go.  You’re holding on too tight, I’ll be here when you wake.”

An impish grin tugged his cheeks.  “Did I make you blush, Cas?  A big, strong alpha like you is a nervous about a little PDA?”

“What did I say?”

Oh.  He took that ‘alpha’ thing to heart—‘cause that was an order.  Okie-dokie!

“Fine, you’re no fun,” Dean mumbled, barely able to make his lips work as he pushed the words past his teeth.  “Guess who’s withholding blowjobs until further notice?  Me!  G’night!”

Surrounded in that sweet scent was the best way to pass out…

\--------------------------

Maybe…Castiel committed to his hoax a bit too wholeheartedly.

As he sat in the corner of the hospital room, still reeling from their first—yes, _first—_ encounter, he couldn’t stop berating himself: he’d fucked up.  
  
More than anything, Cas wanted to see a recovery.  Make damn sure the staff and doctors made Dean their top priority.  Once he was confident, and the nurses had their backs turned, he could slip away.  But then...the unexpected happened.  
  
Surely, Cas had never in a million years planned on fooling Dean himself!  
  
Jesus, the omega never second-guessed the ruse!  He hadn’t so much as batted an eye!  
  
Instead, upon stirring, he’d naturally called Cas ‘alpha’ without a prompt or the nurse’s suggestion and...hell, that did things to him.  For some reason, Dean thought it was more plausible to have lost his memory, the fabric of who he was and the life he led, than to question why a stranger was next to him.  
  
Who this person, posing as the mate _he didn’t have_ , was!

…Okay.  Maybe after a brush with death, it would stand to reason.  Dean’s condition was critical, and Cas had done an excellent job setting them both up from the beginning.  Maybe Dean was subconsciously more familiar with Cas, with his scent, than he’d initially assumed.  Knocked out, or not.

The ride to the hospital was longer than planned.  Ignoring the roads, the trip was _unacceptable_ with the deadly factors piling up, smothering them.  The second fluids were on board, their focused changed: rigging up any type of makeshift heat supply they could use to pump new life into the omega.  
  
And pray it was enough.  Getting his core temperate up, and maintaining the same level, was the only thing keeping Dean stable.  God, Cas had felt physically ill the entire drive: gaining hope once a rosy tinge colored his cheeks, but once oscillating warmth moved—his skin blued and returned to the sickly, pallid shade.  
  
It wasn’t until they flew through the doors of the ER that Castiel had any faith.  He was a half-second away from throwing on his scrubs and saving the man himself!

Through it all, the touch and go, heart-wrenching highs and lows—his rock, his amazing support was Charlie.

She was a genius.

A goddamn _genius_.

Not only had she gone along with his ploy—how many friends would do that?—but she stayed behind, poorly dressed, to see to it the car was towed.  In doing so, she pored over the wreck and did some digging of her own.  
  
Inside the glove box, underneath seats and wedged between some crammed metal, she found a treasure trove of information.  Everything Cas needed and more.  He wasn’t just armed with an insurance card for the hospital, Charlie and the rest of the car held countless clues as to _who_ Cas’ mate _was_.  
  
She finally gave Cas his omega’s name.  
  
Along with Dean’s address, his date of birth, everything an alpha should and _would_ know by heart.  The timing was right on cue—as they finally swung out of the ambulance and into the ER.

It was enough for the front desk to pull his medical history.  Even better, when Cas took a quick peek: it looked like Dean was as healthy as an ox, ages since his last visit to a doctor.  
  
Which meant leeway for Cas to work his magic.  There was feasible time to court and mate an alpha—his plan working out, step by step.  
  
Passed out and clueless as to what was happening, Dean’s marital status was casually updated while he was fighting for his life.

Castiel frowned at how easy (too easy) this charade was.  He didn’t know where to direct his emotions, nor whether they were feelings of victory—for flawlessly playing the system—or disgruntled frustration—from the system being flawed.

Maybe it didn’t matter, Cas was headstrong and stubborn: he’d find a loophole anyway.  This turned out to be the easiest way to secure his spot once they wheeled Dean into a room for rest.

Except…now, it wasn’t limited to ‘updated paperwork.’  
  
Cas had an omega who honestly thought they were mated.  Believing the memories were knocked out of his brain when his head smashed the windshield and—  
  
What would do more harm than good?  The last thing the omega needed was more damage and heartache...

Dean seemed so hopeful, so _happy_.  His scent was beautiful, alive and freely whisking around the room, making Cas smile.  This ‘joyful reunion,’ their... _relationship_ seemed to give Dean a cause to fight for.

To wreck the illusion wouldn’t merely send Dean’s fantasies of a happily ever after crumbling around him, it would destroy any chance Cas had with him.  Because…

In truth: Castiel was drawn in by his scent.  He was utterly captivated by the temptation of knowing the man behind the proverbial mask.

Now that he got a taste?  Of the cheeky, optimistic and absolutely delicious omega that scent was paired with?  He couldn’t leave.

He _should_.

Dear Lord, cutting out and running was his best option!  No one would know.  He could cover his tracks on the way out, nothing would trace back to him.  With no mutual acquaintances, no history whatsoever, they weren’t linked.  
  
Hell, he and Charlie literally found Dean on the side of the road!  He could end all of this, a clean, even break—right now.  It’s what any normal human would do.  Especially, if they had made these stupid choices, managing to get in over their heads.

Except Cas was taken.  Intrigued.  He wanted to know Dean.  Wanted to be part of his life.

Well, once he figured out how to get over this huge fucking hurdle he’d thrown in _his own_  path.  It’s not like Cas had planned out today's events, he couldn't have predicted this.  Not in a million years.

\------------------------------

This time Dean’s waking was less tentative and frightening.  Instead of being paralyzed with fear of the unknown, he was...comfortable.  
  
He knew he was safe.  Thank fuck, Dean knew he hadn’t been left for dead and buried out in the snow, he knew that his mate was here, taking care of him.

Dean kept his eyes closed after he regained consciousness, trying to dig around in his fragmented, useless brain.  He was so frustrated, and it was damn near impossible to keep a lid on it.  Every time he looked back, no where, literally friggin _no where_  could he find the gorgeous man keeping him company at his bedside.

He wondered: if he’d lost time, what other things went missing?  Hell, was it years of his life?  Clumps of information?  Odds-and-ends, dealer’s-choice?  Who knew!  Thank Jesus fuckin’ Christ his alpha was here to stay, to help him cope, to remember, and to take care of him.

If only Dean could remember how the hell he’d gotten so lucky to land this guy in the first place…

As crazy as it was: he shouldn’t worry about the how, there were more important things in play.    
  
Dean needed to re-focus, since the current situation was high-priority concern.  First time the lights came back on, it was only long enough to be hit with the amnesia bombshell, before he was back off to sleep.  
  
He knew damn well the knock on his head was a whammy.  Dean had taken note of his surroundings, there was more to the story.

This time, he needed to figure out what the hell happened to him.

While steeling his nerves to face the music, Dean admitted to a stupid-happy false-start when he felt the weight of a hand in his.  The soft, welcoming connection of their palms pressed and fingers laced together.  Yeah, he could totally get used to this… Or remember what this felt like.  Or...whatever!  
  
When Dean finally opened his eyes, he followed the source (warming him in more ways than one) and peered to the side.  
  
Cas had collapsed over his haphazardly folded arms, one slung out to reach Dean and the other, a poor attempt to keep him propped atop the hospital bed.  Maybe he was asleep, maybe not, but Dean could tell he was exhausted.  
  
Without any idea how long the ordeal was, Dean couldn’t even venture a guess—was it a power-nap or was it night?  Was it seven years later and Dean was waking from a coma?!  It was time to get some answers.  Hell, maybe this would help both of them.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean whispered, his voice all kinds of messed up and hoarse, “You up?”

The alpha’s scent burst with excitement, he tilted his chin and smiled.  “Of course, I‘ve been waiting.  How are you?  How do you feel?”

“You tell me.  I’m still in the dark.”  He kept his voice lowered.  “Let’s not catch anyone’s attention yet.  I wanna stay up, spend time with you, before the nurses roofie me back to sleep, yeah?”

“Anything you want.  And as for how you are…”  Cas reached up, moving carefully to not draw attention from anyone who wasn’t Dean, fingertips feeling cool against his forehead, “Concussion, stitches right below your hair line, well— _countless_ stitches over your body,” his touch traced along Dean’s cheek, neck, pausing where the sheet was pulled up.  “Broken ribs.  Sprains and muscle tears throughout your left arm were partly due to some dislocation after a lengthy fight with the seatbelt.  Unfortunately, your right leg had a severe break.”

As Cas went along each of his bullet-point presentation, it was like the pain bubbled and promptly shot directly to the site, his words lighting a stick of dynamite and Dean’s acknowledgement an explosion of “ _oh, yeah, fuck_ ” flaring something awful.  
  
He could acutely feel the hefty bulk of the cast, anchoring him down into the bed.  The brace wrapped around his shoulder, his arm—there was a rigidness Dean believed to be a split obstructed by the sheets.  He could feel the tension of the stitches across—no, a better question was: where _weren’t_ they—?!

Even in the face of Dean’s obvious alarm, Cas continued smiling when he said, “We brought you in severely hypothermic.  It was a race against the clock.  You barely avoided frostbite, keeping all your limbs intact.  I feel very, very lucky to have found you.”  
  
Wow, there something centering about Cas.

“Not luck, you’re just a good alpha,” Dean quipped back, dumbass grin on his face, he knew it and he owned it!  ...Although the real-time dawning of what happened sunk in, and now there was a different kind of fear.  
  
“I’m not doing so hot, am I?”  Dean worried his lip, appreciative of Cas’ supportive gesture—of taking Dean’s hand into both of his, cradling it—and he wondered aloud, “What happens now?”

“Now?”  His alpha hummed, appearing to be caught off guard.

Still, Dean waited on him.  Like a good mate would... _right_?  That was mate shit, wasn’t it?  Letting your alpha make decisions and whatnot?

Finally, Cas came up with, “Now, we wait for the all-clear from the doctors.  After that…” he hesitated again, which confused Dean.

“After that...you’ll need someone—I’m going to take you back and wait on you, hand and foot, until you recover.”  
  
Was that so hard to say?  The words were perfect, everything he wanted, that eased his mind and more.

Dean beamed, his agreement enthusiastic.  “I love that.  With this pain in the ass leg, it’s gonna be a commitment, you sure you’re ready for this, babe?”

“Absolutely.”  This time, Cas didn’t miss a beat.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Oh, shit,” Dean grumbled, seeing the nurse turn the corner.  Knowing the countdown was on, Dean waved Cas in, luring him closer with a soft, “C’mere…” and tugging Cas into a quick kiss.

But they both lingered…no, it wasn’t the ‘quick’ _anything_ he'd initially planned, at all.  Dean’s lips pressed against his alpha’s—it was friggin _mouth-watering—_

God, he was stupid as hell!

Dean was hungry, craving, wanting and needing, of a million more!  Preferably, with less clothing!

…and less broken bones.   _Shit_.

“How are you doing, Mr. Winchester?” the woman asserted, while he and Cas tried to pry themselves away from one another—gazes flicking between one another’s wandering eyes and wet lips—inappropriately aroused from something so small.  “Excuse me, _Dean_.”

“Uh?  Yeah, sorry.  Thinking.”

Finally, in an abrupt and jarring jolt, they snapped back apart.  Cas returned to his chair and Dean, upright, in his bed.

“I’m going to take your vitals.  You’ve been nice and stable the past two days.”  There was a knowing grin on the nurse’s face, she laughed when she announced, “We believe the amnesia should correct itself, or maybe it already has.  And after the doctor checks you over, with your mate being a nurse, we’ll be able to discuss sending you two lovebirds home soon!”

“Awesome!” Dean keenly agreed, ‘cause it _was_.  “Hell yes, let’s bust me out!”

His rah-rah-go-team may have stemmed from said inappropriate arousal, but did it matter?

He could only focus on what was in front of him _and_ in the present.  No use crying over what he couldn’t remember when the feedback was all: ‘wait it out’ and the gorgeous alpha of his dreams was gonna, quote, ‘wait on him…’  
  
Sure, Dean was pretty fucked up, but all things considered, he wasn’t about to complain with Cas around to help him get better.  Not for a second.

\--------------------------------

While they readied Dean’s discharge paperwork, Cas was hit with two more crisis-level situations.

Both stemmed from this lack...of insight into Dean’s life.  They kept on coming and would have dissuaded any normal person to drop the whole thing, but Cas was stubborn to a fault and thought he could fix everything.  Find a solution to each problem, no matter how far-fetched the idea, or (his new favorite) swap out an answer with a loophole.

Problem one: Dean’s family should really be notified he was in an accident.  That it was serious, but he managed to pull through.  Except, with Cas as Dean’s ‘mate,’ he should be the one calling up the family, right?  
  
In Dean’s mind, that’s probably what happened, too—that Cas had gotten ahold of everyone in their ‘happily ever after,’ to update them on Dean’s condition as it played out.

Not only did Castiel fail, knowing _nothing_ about this family; but they’d blow his cover—

Problem two: he had no idea about Dean’s living situation.

Thank God, before Cas promised Dean the moon, he actually _had_ the means to take care of him—but he couldn’t help but wonder…did Dean have roommates?  Did he have a boyfriend?  Or girlfriend?

Hell, would Cas’ glorified kidnapping end in Dean’s dog starving because he was so conflicted about his plan they never returned home to feed it?!

…wow, all right, one step at a time.

Regardless, Dean needed someone while he recovered.

It only made sense that someone had medical training, right?  Cas easily justified this was a kind of in-home nursing care; except, to make it easier on Cas…it was in his own home.

“Mr. Novak!”

He spun around, praying he didn’t look as anxious as he felt—but his scent _must_ have given him away—  
  
The nurse took a wary step back to stare at him.

“I have the documents that need your signature…”  Her voice was tentative while she flipped around the clipboard to face him.  She was slow to hand him the pen, being sure to capture his attention when she pronounced, “It must have been scary.  Finding your mate like that.  I can promise you; he’s through the woods.  You know that, too, deep down.  This is a time to celebrate.”

Hah, if only _that’s_ where his nerves stemmed from.

Castiel kept up appearances and smiled at her.  “I appreciate it.  I believe I’m still rattled.”

“Who wouldn’t be?  Then adding in your bond, I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like.”

Pausing mid-signature, he raised an eyebrow and glanced at her.  “You’ve noticed our…bond?”

“Please!”  Waving a dismissive hand and rolling her eyes, she laughed out, “Everyone can scent it from the hallway!  It’s pretty amazing—having a connection like that, so young.  Unfortunately, the only time we experience anything close is in the ER.  When an elderly patient arrives from a stroke or heart attack.  We already know who their mate is—they’ve built a union spanning decades—God, it’s difficult to separate them, especially when the outcome is bleak.”

Yes, Cas was in a state of mild shock, but he wasn’t the one telling the story.

“A patient comes in and it’s too late, they can’t be saved.  That’s the job.  But then, afterwards...the way the loss breaks the living?  The scent of tearing away the _survivor’s_ only reason to _live_ , the ache of their heart being crushed—it’s enough to rip out your own, too.   _That’s_ what hurts the most.”  She shook her head, and forced a smile, “Which is why everyone’s been walking by your room.  It’s rare for a win and a happy ending, you know?  Being able to scent victory and love…it’s invaluable to us.  So thank you—for loving your mate and tracking him down in the storm.”

“I…honestly wasn’t expecting any of that.  But you’re welcome.” Castiel’s heart was pounding loud enough he could barely hear much else besides the beat thudding in his ears.  “I had noticed quite a bit of foot traffic, considering the wing of the hospital.”

“Can’t get anything by another nurse, huh?”  She pursed her lips together and retrieved the papers, looking like she had something to ask, yet hesitating.

Cas couldn’t take much more of it.  He was already flustered, so he encouraged, “Is there anything else you were wondering about?”

“Yes.”  She paused once more, eyes flitting between her clipboard and Castiel, before she finally blurted out, “How long have you been together?  I’m…curious.”

“About the bond…” he finished for her, but…what did he say?

He couldn’t even remember the lie he’d written down in the medical files!  If only he could reference _those_ —Cas knew, beginning now, he had to get his story straight on the first try!  Since it was shaping up to be a long-winding story, much longer than he intended—

“I mean, you’d know.  Like, when you two met.”  She beat him to the punch, asking, “There’s no way you were true mates, right?”

“Actually…” Cas’ breath was shaky, and for the first time in a while, he was able to look her in the eyes.  For the first time today, maybe something crazy made sense?  “...I believe we are.”


	2. Dean, His Name was Dean

Charlie could not believe she was actually going through with this!

She questioned if Castiel was out of his flippin’ mind!  It was one thing, itching to see a goal play out to the end—like the dude ( _Dean_ , his name was Dean) getting rescued and making it out alive.

Reconstructing your entire life _and_ the life of another when a little white lie spiraled out of control was a completely different thing!

Now, he’d dragged Charlie into his mess.  Was he blind?  Or just willfully ignorant to the _one way_ this ended?

It was only a matter of time until shit hit the fan, until he was found out.  Still, Cas wanted to surf the wave and ride it out, which seemed like a weird form of self-inflicted torture.  Whatever.  His BS Tower would keep building up, he’d keep digging a deeper hole, and the longer Cas went, the louder the explosion when it blew up in his face.

Which was why Charlie was white-knuckling her steering wheel, headed to the address on ‘Dean Winchester’s license and insurance info.

To scope out the situation, get a better read on the guy, and to make sure when she knocked—there wasn’t a dog or cat that ran to the door because her BFF had literally _kidnapped their owner._  Cas being a big stickler about the animal cruelty thing, but not the kidnapping, the crazy-ass.

It was three days since the accident.  The snow-pocalypse had finally stopped falling and the weather ‘warmed’ barely above zero, when Charlie eventually tracked down the address.

She rolled into the driveway and noticed there weren’t fresh tire marks in the snow, but countless old ones.  Based on the overnight dusting and drifting, she assumed they were left yesterday or the day before?

It meant someone was looking for Dean.  This someone, or someone's, hadn’t just stopped by for the first time today.

Huh.  Now that Charlie thought about it, the lack of fresh tracks could’ve been a tell-tale sign of something greater.  Like a field trip to file a Missing Person’s report.  Luckily, Dean was an adult.  No matter what kind of poking and prodding done by this mystery visitor, the cops would’ve made them hold off until now, if they allowed any filing in the first place.  
  
After all, adults were 'allowed' to go missing, they mostly made the choice to, right?  
  
...Wow.  Now _she_ sounded like a criminal mastermind!  What the hell had Cas done to her?!

Regardless, she added it the the list of things she needed to mention to Cas.  Yell at him, pointing out another way that his stupid plan could unravel no matter how good his intentions.  
  
Crap.  Charlie had a reason to pause getting out of her car.  She didn’t know when, but someone would be back: it was a fact.

Although, the knowledge made her mini-mission that much more urgent—this could be her only chance if the police swarmed down on the place, depending on the stakes.  If the situation was reversed, Charlie knew it’s what she’d be doing for Cas…  
  
Whether it ended up as a welfare check or all-out-war, depended on how dramatic Dean’s friend and/or family made the claim out to be.  If they were smart—and had a run of luck—they’d check with hospitals and keep their questions vague, find the omega and save Cas from himself.  
  
Hopefully, they wouldn’t call in and _specifically_ ask for _current_ patients.  The dude was with Cas now ( _Dean_ , his name was Dean—why couldn’t she remember?!) and—

Yeah, okay, the insanity of the situation just sunk in and Charlie jumped out of the car.

She approached a nice condo at the end of cul-de-sac.  All the homes in the neighborhood had beautiful, big yards with plenty of space between them for privacy.  Dean’s included.

Which was why she didn’t worry about people watching her.  
  
Charlie followed the path of day-old indentations.  The shoe prints in the snow led her around the corner, to a random rock in the landscaping bed.  It pained her: how easy it was, picking up the stone, and finding the spare key she knew would be there.  
  
God, there wasn’t even a decoy path, just the B-line to the ‘hiding spot,’ begging anyone to come right in!

Charlie showed a wee bit more discretion, attempting to hide any trace of her visit as she went.  
  
It was a balancing act, stepping directly in the prints that were previously leftover, thank God she had the option in the heavy snow—   
  
Much to her surprise, after a few painstaking, aligning steps, she realized: her and the friend or family member’s?  Their shoe matched up.  Perfectly.  
  
Huh.  That had Charlie assuming it was a woman, and, as she followed them to the door, fear sunk in.  What if this was Dean’s _girlfriend_?

Dean’s home would tell her more.

More than ever, it was pressing she did more than casual digging: Charlie needed answers to these questions herself.  She was dying of curiosity and needed to play detective.  Cas needed something, anything, about Dean while nursing the dude back to life, because drugs could only daze the omega for so long.  
  
He needed to make it _look_  like they were mated, like he knew what he was doing and that he was a big part of Dean’s life.  For that to happen: Cas needed some background, hence Charlie’s descent into madness and breaking the law, right alongside him.

When Charlie entered the condo, right away, she got a vibe.

The décor, the furniture, the photos on the wall—Dean was one of _those_.

Tough on the outside with a gooey center.

The leather, the scrap metal artwork, the record collection next to a tell-tale, well-loved, hand-me-down table.

It was obvious Dean had money, that this _was_ a bachelor pad—he had the latest technology but a serious case of nostalgia.  Charlie would bet a hundred bucks that coffee table was from a family member’s home: one who was gonna toss it into the garbage rather than sell, Dean salvaging it last minute.

Yeah, it paired nicely with all the photos of tight-knit loved ones up on the walls.

Charlie studied them closely.  The people in Dean’s life appeared over and over again, growing, thriving, through the years.  The way he presented himself next to them was interesting.  The way he dressed was equally intriguing.

This omega was unique and fluid with his gender.

She counted seven recurring people in these photos, three had starring roles more than the rest, and based on body language?

No, the woman’s steps she had been retracing _wasn’t_ a girlfriend.

Still, Charlie had to be sure.

She took off her snow boots and glanced into the kitchen, surprised at the organization and time and money spent on this room, alone.  Dean must love cooking.  She steered her focus deeper into the room, specifically: the fridge—it was always a good tell!  The way to a man’s heart being through his stomach, and all…

Seeing that the refrigerator, the cupboards, the pantry, all of it was filled with food—it begged the question: why the eff was he out that day?

It didn’t make sense!  No one should’ve been driving, save for necessity’s sake, and here Dean was—ready to take shelter and hibernate until freakin’ spring!

Groaning loudly, with more and more questions building instead of answers, Charlie swung around through the living room.  When she faced the staircase and ascended the steps, Charlie was clueless as to what she’d find, but she had to stay optimistic!

The bedroom was where she hit pay dirt!  She could confirm to Cas, yes, Dean _was_ single.    
  
Uh.   _Very_ single and very, _very_ well-prepared for taking on his heat—and any other omega needs and ventures—solo.  Which meant he wasn’t dating, courting, maybe even looking, either.

Charlie didn’t have time to be embarrassed by her finds, she was on borrowed time!

When Cas had asked her to go, there was a fifty-fifty chance she’d be able to get in.  
  
Now that she’d managed to sneak inside, Cas had requested something— _except_ …while important, following through was dangerous, loaded.  Charlie knew some woman was keeping tabs on Dean, she couldn’t tip her off.

How carefully was this chick watching?  Would she notice if some of Dean’s clothes went missing?  
  
She was in a position to help.  After the ordeal of the accident, the omega being comfortable in his own wardrobe while healing was a solid _Charlie_ wanted to give him, not just because Cas begged.

How meticulous and random would Charlie have to be?  She didn’t know what his favorite shirt was!  Did it matter?!  Would her choice tip off the wrong person—sending Dean a red flag, or worse—both strangers now suspicious?!

Maybe this was what sent everything crashing down…it could change the case from a missing person, to a damn robbery and trace back to her!  
  
But—dammit—she had to remember _before_ she hyperventilated!  Dean was doing this of his own free will, Cas swore up and down, so the best Charlie could do was get him some of his own clothing to wear, right?!

Yes...she took in a deep breath, sent the ’he’s single’ text to Cas, and promptly went shopping in Dean’s closet.

Charlie matched the outfits to what he’d been seen wearing in the photos.  She did it for him in more ways than one, knowing, yep, he was comfy in them and, perhaps, the memories in the pictures would spark to life?    
  
…Maybe, Dean would respond, triggering him to look back in his mind: recognize what real memories are, see he’s not missing any time, and...Charlie would get her best friend back.  
  
Hopefully, _without_ the dude pressing charges.

She stuffed everything into a duffle bag and glanced in the bathroom.  It was her last stop and Charlie instantly caught sight of another attention-grabber.  This guy kept getting more fascinating, didn’t he?

He had blockers, huh, a pretty random variety, too.  No alpha scents, just lots of temporary blockers.

Opening the mirrored cabinet, Charlie continued digging, needing to make damn sure he wasn’t missing his medications.

Right behind a stick of deodorant, the singular pill bottle practically flew at her, knocking her in the forehead.

“Shit!”  Charlie snatched it up before it crashed to the floor, the pills rattling and swirling.  She squinted at the label, knowing it was prescribed but unaware what the hell it was…but there was the obvious fact Dean needed it.  “Gotcha now.”

She stuffed the meds into the pocket of the duffle bag and gave everything else one more look.

Would Dean feel more at ease if he had these blockers?  Or was this a single-omega-thing?

Would bringing the blockers actually fuck Cas over, because of what Dean used them for?

Charlie shook her head and backed away.

Her work here was done.

Clothes, check.  Meds, check.  Spying, check.  Investigating relationship status, check.  No starving animal, double check!

Hopefully, no one noticed she was there.  All her hard work would be for nothing if she was put behind bars!

Charlie followed her prints, in reverse, back to the car.  Trying to balance the heavy bag, while walking backwards?  It was difficult as fuck!  She had no idea where there other woman’s exit tracks had gone! ...Maybe she wasn’t as stupid as Charlie originally thought?

Once she was able to collapse in the driver’s seat, she sighed in heavy relief and seized her phone.  
  
Oh, wow, Cas already had a place to meet, a flood of messages popped up and overwhelmed her screen—he was on his way!  Charlie needed to burn rubber to get over there, she needed to do it quick, you know— _without_ getting into an accident.

Driving over to the fast food joint, all she could think about was seeing Cas face-to-face.

Trying to put together the words, to get it into his head, how stupid this was.  If she could get him to call it off in the early stages, while she still could, Charlie would do just about anything.

Now that she’d surveyed the scene, she’d realized it was borderline criminal!

Mulling over any and all ideas and concepts made the drive fly by, and in no time, Charlie was turning into a parking spot.

She felt stronger with the home-court advantage, she flagged Cas over to come sit next to her.  Right away, Cas jumped from the driver’s seat into Charlie’s passenger, and scooped up the bag.  “This a present for me?”

“It’s…a present...for your boo.”

_Holy shit._

Cas implored, “I really, really owe you, Charlie.  Please, tell me anything I can do.  I know it was uncomfortable and awkward for you to go over there.  I’ve asked a lot of you, and I understand you’re against this but—”

“Nah,” Charlie smacked him in the arm, laughing.  “Let me guess, he’s knocked out from the painkillers again?”

The alpha nodded, an easy smile warming his features.  “It’s best for him to rest right now, anyway.”

“I _did_  find something to add to his regiment.  You’re the one to look it up or call a doctor, not me!  It’s tucked in the pocket.  The bag has clothes for days.  Has he looked in the closet yet?  Maybe you can hang them up in there, co-mingle your stuff, before he realizes it.”

“That’s a good idea.”  He held the bag closer before reaching out and hugging her.  “You’re amazing.  I don’t know where to start repaying you.”

“Go.  Keep me updated and let me know if you need anything else,” she groaned, sounding put-out but she cracked a smile.

Cas gracefully made his exit, and once he’d pulled out of the parking lot—Charlie was left in shock.

“ _Holy shit—_ ” she gasped aloud, completely buckling in her plan to set him straight, turning into a full-fledged co-conspirator because…

She couldn’t.  She _wouldn’t—_

Charlie knew Cas’ scent inside and out.  Through the good times and the bad.  She had _also_ just come directly from Dean’s place, where _his scent_ lingered—having soaked into the walls, marking a place he called home.  From that alone, Charlie already knew the omega’s easy enough.

The two of them, together, it clung to Cas and puffed out the moment he sat in the cab of her car.  But there was _nothing_ normal about the joining of their two scents—

Their scent was something amazing—indescribable, beautiful, magical—the scents of _true mates_.

Charlie wondered if Cas even knew himself?  He mentioned the hospital staff saying odd things, he was worried he’d give himself away, but Charlie had a feeling the ‘odd’ things were aimed at a slightly different topic.  If there was one thing to distract the world from a kidnapping: it was the true mates phenomena.

Yeah, okay, _fine_!

She’d let them be, they could do their thing…

Those clowns were meant to be together any way.  What if this was the quickest way to do it?  Whatever, this was so far above her pay grade!  Slap her with ‘accomplice,’ she’d take it—so long as everyone on the jury’s nose worked, Charlie wasn’t doing time.  
  
She was going on her merry way.

\-----------------------

Ever since they arrived back from the hospital, Dean hadn’t batted an eye at comfortably settling into Cas’ bed like he owned the place.

Like he’d been there all his life.  Like it was his safe, happy place.

Cas would be lying if he said the sight was unpleasant.  The trusting and loving omega was entirely too welcomed, it felt too easy.

The thing was, a sense of justification cemented his already hopeful intentions: Dean really did need _his_ help.  
  
From what Charlie said, from her investigation, he didn’t have a significant other, a roommate, or anyone with him that would drop everything, make that change in their life, to come to his aid.  
  
And Cas was able to.  He could call in to the hospital—having a ridiculous amount of sick days to cash in on—at least until Dean was off the high dose of pain medication.  Until he was somewhat self-sufficient.  Right now, the omega had to rely on an outside source, wholly.

Cas knew how the process went.  Optimistic they could work out a rhythm in the future, where Dean could sleep, Cas could go in for a shift, and his road to recovery could continue running smooth.

Until then, the car accident had been brutal, Cas couldn’t imagine the pain he must be in.  Of course, the break (he’d seen it tear through his flesh and denim in living color) had been horrible, but the broken ribs protesting with every breath, the stitches, pulling at his skin each time he shifted—the omega needed the good stuff while his body fought off any threatening infection.

Once fixing his dislocated shoulder, the sprain to his arm was temporary.  Cas foresaw it healing (knowing the stubborn and determined nature of Dean, firsthand) the omega would begin to seek out some independence.  That’s how it began, navigating with crutches, and he’d be an encouraging presence right beside him.  
  
Wow.  He had to stop, because—this was real, wasn’t it?

Cas had taken Charlie’s stolen goods, able to slip the clothing on hangers and in the closet without being seen.  He was just in time, tucking away the pajamas as Dean began coming around.

“Heya, Cas.  How long was I out for this time?”  He flashed his enduring, cocky smile that soon turned into childish delight when presented with a fresh pair of boxers and a t-shirt.  “Oh, _hell yes_!  I need a change!  Between the sexy gown and the grunge of marinating in these, it’ll be heaven to wear my favorite shirt.”

Favorite, he said?  Perfect!  Charlie had done an excellent job in her selection process.

“Of course.  But first, I need to change your bandages,” he tutted, rounding the bed.  Cas eased the sling off carefully, cautiously, before peeling the shirt over his head.  “I know a few of these will sting.  Try not to thrash around too much.”

“And break myself more?  Nah, I think I did a good job the first time— _fuck—_!” Dean spat out and tossed his head back—the one thing he could properly move without repercussions.  “I love and hate you so bad right now!”  The ferocity of Dean’s glare was enough to ignite the kit Cas had set out on the nightstand.

It was also enough to draw a fond chuckle, Cas moving to the next laceration and examining the cut for discharge or other tell-tale warning signs.  As he moved over each and every wound, the alpha’s confidence grew.  Everything seemed to be progressing well.  He disinfected and redressed them, before he faced the more difficult of tasks.

Dean and his boxers.

He could tell the omega was curious with his ducking and dodging, and—until now—Cas had tried to work _around them_ the best he could.  There was one deep wound right under the waistband, and he needed to change them anyway.

Forcing himself to focus, remembering that he was a medical profession—he did this all the time, literally _every_ goddamn _day_!—he instructed Dean, “Try and lift up for me,” while whipping the covers over his crotch and finagling the puzzle that was working the cloth over and down the cast.

Dean burst out in laughter when Cas returned to address the last injury.  “Why are you being so shy, alpha?”  Luckily, he didn’t push him into physicality, mostly because he was cursing and grunting again.

“I’d never take advantage of the situation, or you, in this fragile state.  Do you understand?”

He actually stopped what he was doing.  Cas made a point to lock eyes with Dean, being absolutely certain he knew he was serious.  Cas needed to lay down the law one way or another, it may as well be now, right?

“Y-yeah,” Dean was surprised, but he agreed.  “I get it.  I know you don’t wanna hurt me.  That’s not the same as taking advantage though…”  When he saw Cas was about to bite back, Dean cut him off, “ _Okay_ , Cas!  Fine!  No sexy times until I’m better.  Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna harass you.  Just sayin’.”

Shaking his head, Cas grinned and replied, “You wouldn’t be you if you ceased harassment.”  He went on to turn his focus back to the matter at hand, relaying his findings.  “All your stitches look good.  We’ll only need to redress them a couple more times.  I’d like to give them a chance to breathe once the deeper gashes are safely under the control of antibiotics.  What I see is encouraging.”

Cas was distracted when redressing Dean.  The moment the omega’s head popped out of the t-shirt—he planted a smacking kiss on Cas’ cheek.

The alpha responded with a halfhearted glower, making Dean downright thrilled.  “Hey.  You didn’t say anything about cute, mushy stuff.  That’s an _expectation_ of mine.  You didn’t save me from dying for nothing.  If I’m bedridden, you better believe we’re gonna Netflix and cuddle, dude.”

“Fine.  Netflix and cuddle, it is.  Unless you’d be happier at home?  You know, you have been keeping up rent at your old place.  In case you get tired of me,” Cas teased, even as Dean tugged him along, until he was sitting beside him, flipping on the TV.

“Are you crazy?  There’s no other place I’d rather be.”  He snorted and leaned over, laying his head on Cas’ shoulder.  While thumbing through channels, Dean absently said, “’Sides, who else would mercilessly put me through the ringer like you?”

“Heh, and love-hate-me?”

“Exactly.  I need you.”

Cas didn’t say another word.  He was quite happy right where he was—there was no need to spoil things now.

\--------------------

Instead of opting for a mound of pillows to collapse on, Dean found himself (more often than not) using Cas’ lap as the incline he needed to take the pressure off his ribs.  That, combined with the soothing touch of the alpha’s fingers through his hair, had Dean nodding right off.

He was in and out of dreams for days, Cas at his beck and call.  But something that worked even better than the pain meds was the intoxicating scent of his alpha.

God, it was so easy to sleep like a baby when his mate was close.

Dammit, Dean still couldn't believe it was real.

The thing was—with Cas’ skill and training, he went above and beyond.  But as his mate and with their bond—the alpha went even  _further_.

You could hire someone’s expertise, you couldn’t hire the care and love Cas invested in Dean.

It played a role that was just as important while his body worked to mend itself back together.

You couldn’t pay someone to nestle up with you in bed or the couch and make you feel special.  Cas took orders based on random whims—grabbing take out or cooking easy meals whenever Dean opened his mouth with a ‘you know what sounds good?’  Sometimes Dean was so out of it, he didn’t know time existed—yet, his alpha still made sure he took the antibiotics, anti-inflammatory, and every other meds on time, every time.  He was _perfect_.

And still...Dean had no friggin idea—where to even begin—on how he’d managed to score an alpha like Cas.  
  
He’d always been wary of relationships, imagining if he were to mate, it’d be with a beta.  Alpha’s were too overbearing, they considered their omegas property instead of partners.  In the end, it all came down to the size of their friggin knot—which was usually bigger than their brain.  When it came to the mating game, at least.

Cas was none of those things.

Yes, he wanted to know how they got together, where the hell he’d found him, Dean wanted to know _everything_ …but he was way too embarrassed to ask.  Instead, he was (im)patiently waiting for his memories to return.

It didn’t change the end result.  Dean was happy, for one of the first times in his life.  He was happy with another person.

Last he knew, his dating life had been quiet.  He wasn’t actively searching anymore, his focus on too many other things and he was better for it.  See—dating, courting, all that jazz, it took time.  It took effort and energy, it was _tiring_.

That’s why Dean considered himself lucky, in more ways than one: Cas’ appearance, seemingly out of nowhere because of his accident, slapped Dean in the perfect part of a relationship.  Dean’s lost time was during ‘the usual banal getting-together’ was the part that vanished, too.  
  
The part he usually dreaded, forcing himself to go through the motions.  The part he always wanted to skip passed and be done with.  The exhausting get-to-know-you that made Dean abandon courting in the first place.  
  
Oh, the irony: this was the _only time_ he had wished to relive every moment, every boring, awkward detail.  The first kiss, first time they made love, the moment Cas stole Dean’s heart and said they belonged to each other, for the rest of their lives—

Fuck.  
  
These kinds of things?  They were starting to nag at him, these days.

Unfortunately, the fact he was completely useless also led to frustration.  Frustration turned into bitterness.  And Dean ‘feeling lucky’ changed into berating himself for forgetting his mate!

The door to the house opened, his alpha light-footed in case Dean was asleep.  He was coming home from a short shift at the hospital.  Cas insisted, because of Dean, if he was going to begin work, he was gonna do it _slowly_.  
  
Like he was gonna have a ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ moment if he worked a full shift.  Jesus, he was injured, he wasn’t _ancient_!  And, so what, if he fell!  He’d just lay _there_ for the day, it’s not like Dean did jackshit, ‘sides lay down, anyway...

Dean’s hearing was acute—he prided himself on it, and he’d learned the noises and groans of the house.  He knew when Cas swung around into the kitchen, when the carpet changed into hardwood, the floorboards creaked.  

No matter how silent he was, there’s no way to muffle the crank of a can opener nor the hiss and beeping of the microwave.  Sniffing the air, Dean knew what was coming to him before he even laid eyes on his mate.

When Cas entered the room carrying soup, he was taken aback and froze in the doorway.

“Dean…” his voice was cautious, “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”  Dammit, he tried to keep his voice even, but he’d been stewing in this for hours and hours.  Well, the entire time Cas had been at work.

He felt beaten down, defeated, so goddamn miserable.

Cas’ nostrils were flaring, it was obvious he was fighting to keep his nose from scrunching up.  “Your scent…you’re clearly distressed.”  He ditched the bowl on the dresser—not even the nightstand—and swerved in his path, heading right for him.  “What happened?  Please, let me help.”

Ruefully, Dean scoffed.  “See, that’s the thing.  You’ve done nothing _but_ help.  I’m the problem here.  I’m the disaster.  I’m a full-time job, and you…”

What the hell—why was he getting choked up trying to say the words?

“You’ve given me all of you.  And I-I can’t even remember you.  Remember _us_.  You’d think that’s the fuckin’ least I could do, right?”  His eyes fell to the blankets and he swallowed hard.  “I’m holding you back from living your life and you’re getting nothing out of it.  I d-don’t understand why you’re bothering—”

Cas grabbed his chin and forced his focus up, intent flashing in his eyes.  “Dean.  This isn’t only my choice, but I‘m happy to take care of you.  I understand—I’ve seen this before: you’ve hit a wall.  During recovery, when your mind is finally alert but your body can’t keep up, it’s maddening.  You need to re-focus, not take it out on yourself.  Don’t allow it to get the best of you.”

“What?  Like post-accident depression?” he sneered, knowing he had an attitude, but he couldn’t rein it in!

“Exactly.”  The alpha matched his pessimism—not with optimism—but with realism: the facts.  “Each of your problems, your concerns, will be cured with time.  Some of them aren’t even true in the first place.  You’re _not_  a disaster.  You are _not_  holding me back.  Ever since I met you…” he wistfully explained, “I gained a purpose.  No one is apologizing, not for any of it.”

Chewing on his lip, Dean knew by now Cas was literal.  He didn’t really sugar-coat or soften blows, which made Dean trust him.

Heaving an exhale, Dean’s forehead collapsed in the crook of his alpha’s neck, filling his lungs with the scent of his mate.  “This has never happened to me.  I’m always in charge, in control of any situation.  Even if it’s a shitty one, at least it’s _mine_ , you know?  But, I guess,” he tilted his chin to the side, “if I’d hand control over to anyone—it’d be you.”

Cas’ breath was shaky, while Dean weighed his options—lips brushing against his mate’s throat and gauging his (fan-friggin-tastic) reaction.  “I’m, well, honored.  I’ll try not to ruin that.”

Seeing the alpha flustered was so goddamn perfect and the exact kind of brightening-up Dean needed.  He wanted to keep pushing boundaries—so maybe he decided to nibble the length of Cas’ neck—

“ _Dean—_ ”  It was a warning when he drew the alpha’s earlobe into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue.  “What did I say?”

Instead of pulling away, he spread a trail of kisses along Cas’ jawbone, informing him, “Already warned you, Cas.  I told you: I was gonna harass you, there’d be cute, mushy, cuddly stuff.  Figured showing you would be the best way to express my…appreciation.”

Dean figured he had a fifty-fifty shot, hoping transparency would increase his odds, lips openly roaming, skating towards Cas’ cheek—and then pressing one right on his lips.  A _real_  kiss—not the teasing, half-assed attempts previously made, seeing if he could get away with it.

Dammit, Dean _needed this_ and—

In a shocking turn of events, Cas’ arm shot up, his palm cradling the back of Dean’s head.

_Hell yes—_

When his lips moved against Dean, it felt like a long time coming.  Like this was where they belonged.  The barest hint of Cas’ tongue led to Dean readily opening his mouth and welcoming a deeper, more passionate kiss.  A breathtaking kind of yearning blossomed in Cas, making Dean feel on top of the world, delighted and eager.  The moment that happened—Dean was unable to hold back his appreciative, heated moan.

 _That_  was what broke the moment!  Shit.

Cas pulled away in alarm, his eyes wide while he blurted out, “I didn’t mean to do that,” and went on to say, “you’re insufferable!”

Raising an eyebrow and rising to the challenge, Dean quipped back, “Is that why you’re hard and smell like sex?”

Aw, hell—now it looked like he was getting the silent treatment.  All because Cas had called him out!  What the fuck—that wasn’t cool.  Retrieving the soup, he felt the outside of the bowl to see if it was even warm anymore.  But soup was the last thing on Dean’s mind.

Not when Cas had distracted him from the self-imposed hell he‘d put himself through all day.  He’d helped yank Dean out of his slump—the alpha couldn’t have him back paddling into it, right?

“How about we make a deal…” Dean proposed, piquing Cas’ interest.  “We agreed—no sexy times, right?”

Nodding, he played along, “Correct.”

“But what if kissing wasn’t sexy times?”  He attempted to pull out a trick he’d learned from his brother: dusting off a fierce set off puppy eyes.  “I mean, making out and humping each other is clearly off the table.  But…I really, really loved what happened, there.  I don’t know if I can give that up, now that I’ve had a taste.”

Assessing Cas’ reaction wasn’t working—he couldn’t read him—so Dean used one more tactic: “Call it muscle memory, maybe it’s our bond, but I know I missed you.  Don’t take that away from me.  Not again.”

All right— _that_ got a reaction from Cas— _something_ finally did!

His jumbled nerves turned into something warm and (in one for the record books) the alpha finally made the first move, carefully pulling Dean closer.

“I agree to this deal of yours.  Except, the key is moderation.  Is that amenable?”  Cas kissed Dean’s forehead, maybe as confirmation or a peace-offering, saying: he was in.

Whatever the reason, Dean was filled with joy.  He felt like, for the first time since he nailed his head, he was getting part of his life back.  And it was friggin _awesome_.

“Absolutely!  Whatever you want.  I’m flexible!  Not right _now_ , but I usually am.  That’s not the point, sorry, I’m rambling, I’m just happy—I didn’t think you’d be down, but you are, which you should, which is great.  Yeah, I'm happy.”  Wow, he sounded like a loon.

Thank fuck, Cas’ scent was the same kind of warm and fuzzy his was (or he assumed it would be…) so he wasn’t the only love-struck moron in the room.

“You’re adorable,” Cas countered with a laugh, and maybe Dean would let him get away with it.  This time.


	3. Something Had to Break

It took Dean a while for his strength to come back (too damn long) and he wanted to throw a goddamn party to celebrate when he could finally manage a shower by himself!  As much as he appreciated Cas’ help, an honest-to-God shower was gonna feel orgasmic compared to the half-assed, stupid not-sexy, sponge-bath shit.

While Cas had to help wrangle him out of his clothes and down to his underwear—they’d laughed over a couple accidental head-butts—today Dean was able to limp into the bathroom by his lonesome.

No matter how battered and fucked up he was, physically?  Goddamn, was he _still_ excellent!

Cas was the best thing that ever happened to him.

He was keeping in contact with the doctor about his amnesia (they'd settled on retrograde, since he was making new memories just fine), he just wished there was a pill to fix all this!  Dean would kill for a clear picture of his previous life with Cas.  He almost got glimpses, every now and then, flickers and glimmers, but nothing concrete.

Like taunting flashes off in the distance.

Still...he had to remember they were both still here.  Dean hadn’t lost his life (which he could have, he was an idiot!) and Cas saved him.

Dean took a moment to glance over all the lacerations while discarding his arm brace.  The stitches were waterproof, there were too many to count—they were laughably difficult to find because of all the dark bruising.  Damn, it looked like he’d gone twenty rounds in the end-all of bar fights.  
  
In the midst of his wandering gaze, he did notice something wrong.  Very wrong.

Or rather, it was what he didn’t notice that freaked him out.

“Cas—”

The alpha scrambled towards the bathroom, shouting out a worried, “Dean, are you okay…” only to see him standing up straight, unharmed.  He heaved a sigh and collapsed in relief against the door frame, admitting, “I thought you fell or hit your head—” Cas shrugged it off, clearing his throat.  “What can I do for you?”

“I don’t understand.”  Dean hated that his words sounded so desperate as he spun around, clunky cast and all.  “ _Where is it_?  At first, I thought maybe it was somewhere unconventional, but here I am, almost _fucking naked_ and I can’t find it anywhere—”

“Hey, slow down,” he soothed, reaching out and grabbing Dean’s shoulders, trying to kneed the tension away.  “Yes, while I shouldn't be surprised about your disregard for clothes; I am curious, what are you looking for?”

“Your mark.”  He finally managed the words, “Your mating claim.  Even under the black and blue, I-I should be able to _see it._ ”

Cas froze.  His hands clamped down, his body arresting in place and he didn’t so much as blink.  That reaction…it confirmed Dean’s fear.

He voiced it.  “You haven’t made me your omega?”

“But you _are_.”  Cas’ words were fueled by the emotions Dean felt, but he _didn’t get it._   “We…we were just about to.  We’ve been together, bonded, for so long: it feels like we’re mated already.”

“Yeah…”  Dean nodded in understanding.  “I get that…I mean, my memory is still fucked, but I know you.  I know we’re together.  Guess that means deep down, I feel the bond is still there, huh?”

Cas’ features softened in a kind, genuine smile.  “For better or for worse.”

“Yeah…” Dean repeated, allowing himself to be pulled into Cas’ warmth, against his chest—he felt safe here.  Except, he couldn’t help but wonder: “Were we gonna take the leap soon?”

“Let’s not worry about that.  Let’s choose our own fate right now, make each other a promise, okay?”

Huh…consider Dean’s curiosity thoroughly piqued.

“I’m listening.”

The alpha retreated far enough away to look Dean in the eyes, his scent hopeful, filling the entire bathroom.  “We shouldn’t count on your memories returning.  Waiting for the that day will cause too much pressure on us both.  Instead of picking up where we left off, we start at the beginning.  I don’t want you to feel like you're in the dark or you've been left behind.  I want you to be happy.”

Cas’ chuckle was forced when he added, “You’ve been dealt a bad hand with your injuries as it is.  What do you think about setting yourself up for a win?”

“When I already know I’ll get the guy in the end?” Dean asked playfully, waggling his eyebrows.

This time his laugh was the real deal.  “Of course.  It’s a money-back guarantee.”

“I’ll play,” he agreed with enthusiasm, tugging at the alpha’s belt loops.  “So…are we pretending we just met here?  In your bathroom?  What’s the plan?  I was wandering around in your house, and in a kinky turn of events—”

Dean was easily distracted when Cas pulled him closer, interrupting, “How about instead...” they were only a breath away, when he decided, “We met at the hospital.  I’m a friend assisting you, and a trained caregiver—”

“The hottest friend who’s gonna give me more than ‘care’ soon—”

“ _Dean_.”  Cas’ tone was full of reprimand.  But he still planted a kiss on his forehead.  “Remember, you’re trying to gain your independence back.  Take your shower.”

“Fine,” he grunted, managing to swat at the alpha’s rear before he turned away completely.  “And, uh, thanks.”

Cas paused in the hallway before shutting the door.  Peering over his shoulder, the alpha wondered, “What are you thanking me for?  I thought you’d be upset—discovering you’re without a mark.”

“I’m not saying that part doesn’t bum me out,” Dean confessed, but turned it around to something more positive.  He’d been learning to do that a lot these days.  “But I know we’ll get there.  I’m thanking _you_ for playing along.  For…dumbing it down and starting at the beginning for me.  Not a lot of alphas would do that, you know?  They’d be frustrated I was out driving, hit my head and ruined our relationship.  But you’ve been great about this whole shitfest.”  
  
"You haven't ruined anything," Cas spoke on reflex.  
  
Dean didn't have to respond because of the intent behind Cas' eyes, his alpha just watched him.  
  
It was like, he was both checking Dean out and taking him in with a dash of wonderment.  Not like Dean felt particularly attractive, ever since his fight with a mammoth lawnmower.  Still, Cas’ appreciative gaze made him feel a little hot under the collar.  Better about himself, even.

“Not many alphas are blessed with someone like you.  I think a fresh start will be good for both of us.  And…” Cas shook his head and laughed, “You’d be surprised.  The lengths I’d go to, to make sure you were okay.  Properly taken care of.  It’s become a personal mission, of sorts.”

“I’m a mission?  How romantic.”

“I agree—hopelessly,” he returned, trying to hide a blooming smirk.  “I promise, I’ll romance you later.  Once we get to know each other, right?”

“Oh, whatever.”  Dean waved to him in dismissal.  “Get outta here, Prince Charming.  Save your ogling for the second date!”

“We’re well past the second date…”

Dean reached behind him, where he knew his sling was, and swung it out at Cas—the tail end cracking as a wet-towel-like whip.

He raced away, fleeing with an indignant, “Dean!” while the omega cackled.  “See you on our next date, Cas!”

\--------------------------

If Castiel didn’t know any better: he’d have thought he just solved all their problems?

While it may have been under false pretense, the idea of them starting at the beginning was a brilliant out for him when the truth came crashing down.  Because _they had_  started from the beginning.  Gotten to know each other with building blocks, right down from the very foundation.  Albeit, on a technicality.

The echoed words of ‘true mates’ continued passing everyone’s lips.  From that fact alone Castiel gained confidence that (while he knew what he was doing what's necessarily right) there were forces outside his control that made their circumstances different.  Ironically, even though the rest of the world couldn't stop talking about it, _Dean_ didn't know they were true mates.  
  
He was blissfully unaware—explaining what he felt from thinking they were already long-term  _mates—_ saddling Cas with the difficult choices.

See—while he _was_ being shady, he kept giving Dean outs.  Countless chances and choices to say no, to leave.  
  
Even when he knew the omega would brush them off.

So later (he prayed much, much later), he could point out all the instances Dean had been given to make his exit.

Maybe it wouldn’t be much…but it would be something.  Something to prove Cas' intentions weren't malicious, that he'd honor any and all of Dean's wishes.

But _God_ , a taste of his new (yet tentative) reality crashing down too soon?  It had given Cas a heart attack!  
  
Dean's question about the mark—he should’ve seen that coming!  It appeared he was becoming better and better at lying, thinking on the fly.

And Dean ate it up.

It was insanity, how much trust Dean put in him—the omega completely gave himself away to what he knew as his alpha.  
  
While Cas was presented the opportunity and pressed fast-forward to be an integral part of Dean's life, he'd never use Dean's trust against him.  Of course it was a tool to utilize, but not for selfish reasons, the way 'most alphas' would—a topic Dean himself had brought up.  Whether a positive or negative trait, Castiel had never been widely accused of obnoxious alpha behavior.  He certainly wasn't starting now, in the treatment of his true mate.  
  
He had nothing but Dean's health and happiness in mind, what he deserved.

Yes.  In the end, maybe Dean would understand his choices, and not see him as a delusional madman.  Honestly: what wouldn’t you do to be with your true mate?

How could Cas allow his omega to suffer, alone?  He wouldn’t!  It was his responsibility, he could feel it in his bones, and so he took charge—one of the few alpha instincts he'd agree with.  
  
This wasn’t a matter of deception, it was a matter of tending to and caring for someone very special to him.  Now that the idea had sunk in, now that Cas had accepted it—who was he to get in the way of destiny?

\----------------------

Sure, there was frustration that came with being an invalid.

In the past, it wasn’t uncommon for Dean to get bossy with the wrong people, resulting in a fight.  He’d done some dumbass things and broken a bone.  Popped his shoulder out, grabbing a friend with balls to shove it back in.  Those times, he could wing it, push through the pain and function like normal.

This time, it was different—he’d accrued every friggin injury under the sun at one time.

He was utterly useless.  The fact was black and white.  But Cas never made him feel that way.  Instead of adding shades of grey—which would've been impressive as hell by itself—he managed to do the impossible: inspiring Dean to see transient flecks of color.

Every time Cas was needed to help him walk, to check on the status of his cuts and stitches, he’d get it done fast and efficiently, so Dean didn’t have time to wallow and pout during the process.

Quicker than quick, they’d return to the activity they’d been engaging in before.  See—that’s where Cas was a ninja.  He’d sneak his check-up in at random, so Dean never knew (didn’t have time to anticipate and dread) when it was coming.

It happened, it was over, they carried on.

Cas was so good with him.  
  
Plus, an alpha _gracefully_ dealing with a head-strong, _stubborn_ omega?  Dean knew he was difficult on his best days, but his downfalls didn't only make him borderline unappealing—they outlined everything an omega shouldn't be.  
  
Their circumstance fundamentally went against nature.  Making Dean fall for Cas all over again, hour by hour, day by day.

In the spirit of starting over, a weight had been lifted.

The uncertainty, the terror he may never regain his memories, had been wiped from his mind.

Working their way from the top was even better.  
  
A fresh start (with a promised happy ending) was the definition of a win-win.  If his brain refused to work with him, (the memories never returning) they were on a fast course to fixing that problem.  If he _did_?  He’d have _double_ the awesome experiences with his mate!

Future mate.   _Almost_ mate.  Eh—whatever the term, Dean’s head already cemented _them._   Period.  Cas was equivalent to the plain word ‘mate’ for while and nothing was changing that.

“I’m all in,” Dean announced with a cheeky grin, pushing his chips forward in the middle of a poker game.

Cas raised an eyebrow and studied him carefully, weighing his options before flipping the river card.

His easy answer of, “Call,” wasn't what Dean wanted to hear.  
  
Naturally, he feigned confidence (even cockiness), but inside his cursing turned downright inventive.  Dean impressed himself with fifty shades of creative 'fucks.'

Flipping over a queen of spades provoked a dramatic heave from Dean, he slumped back in his seat.  “You won again!” he complained, throwing his good arm in the air.

“You bluff too much,” Cas returned without blinking, trying and failing to hide his delight.

What the hell, Dean hadn't even unveiled his cards for Cas to know, but...of-friggin- _course_ —the alpha was right.  He’d bluffed his ass off that entire hand.

“It’s not fair.  You’re cheating!”  Waving around a belligerent and wild pointed finger, he accused, “I bet you figured out my tell months and months ago!  And you’re using it against me.”

Cas was adamant, “No.  I’m better at poker than you.”  With a grin full of mischief, he proposed, “Shall we play Go Fish?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Dean laughed, relaxing back in the chair.

Or, as much as he could.  Before his ribs turned against him.  He winced and wiggled around between the wooden bars to find a way to avoid the pressure.

These were the times other people would look at him in pity.  Instantly blurt out, ‘are you okay?  Oh my god, how can I help?  You’re like fine china, seconds from breaking again!’

Instead, Cas glanced at the clock and noted, “I hadn’t realized we were playing for so long.  Are you hungry?”

“Hell yeah, I’m hungry.”  He smiled brightly, unable to stop himself from goading, “We doing take out?  Or you gonna whip out one of your random, uh...concoctions?”

“If you continue to insult my cooking, I _will_  make you mac and cheese, morning, noon and night,” he warned, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

On his way there, he stopped to ruffle Dean’s hair and kiss his temple.  And additionally whisper the foreboding threat: “Or worse.  I’ll make lettuce wraps.”

Dean clucked his tongue, his eyes following Cas as he walked away.  It was habit (one he didn't wanna kick) during those fond glances to check out his ass and...linger there.  How could he not?  Even if he wasn’t allowed to touch, he could look!  And he wasn't a creep if they were together, right?

“Fucking with my food leads to consequences!  You’re gonna find me spun out on the kitchen floor, shoving sandwich meat in my mouth!”  He pitched his voice towards his alpha, louder now.  “I’ll bite the dust from gluttony or famine!  You wanna take your pick as to which, or should I surprise you?”

“A surprise is unlikely.”  Cas peered from around the corner.  “Whenever you attempt to use your crutches, I swear, I’m living with an elephant.”

Dean gaped, his jaw dropping and he couldn’t come back with any witty comeback.  “Yer a…elephant.”

“That’s what I thought.”  And oh, if his alpha wasn’t smug.

Although, Cas did say something to remedy, well, _anything_ that needed it.

“When I went shopping, I brought back pie.”

“Now, _that_  is why I fell in love with you!”  Dean’s excitement was palpable, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.  “ _That_  I can work with.”

Cas’ brash expression became softer and he nodded.  “Good.  Because, first, you’ll need to choke down any dinner I chose to make you tonight.”

Dean‘s, “I think I’ll manage,” veered for the affectionate side.  How could he stay away?

His alpha had that magnetic effect on him, he was a sucker for Cas.

…Even though the goddamn _moment_ Dean was able, _he_   _was_ going to take over cooking for the two of them.  Forever.  
  
Dean would enthusiastically be responsible for breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks—even pouring damn beverages—Cas was _that_ challenged.  It was enough to keep Dean alive (for now), yet off icy roads for the rest of his life.

\--------------------------

Dean should have been asleep hours ago.  Like—eight hours ago.  But Cas should’ve been home, too.

It wasn’t like he was waiting up to yell at him.  Nor was he gonna complain he needed his nurse to tend to his every need, to wait on him hand and foot.

Hell, Dean was doing pretty damn good!  He’d even learned how to pace back and forth—thankyouverymuch—using his crutches!  While that was the very last talent he’d hoped to gain, he’d done it.  
  
Even when couldn't keep it up very long.  Dean’s ribs yelled at him and he realized he’d exceeding his time limit, ‘pacing’ also drained his (limited) endurance.

So he changed scenery.  Choosing to wait up in bed.

It wasn’t like he was a jealous mate, pouting until Cas got home and worried about where he'd been.  On the contrary, Dean had a newfound paranoia picturing anyone driving in this bullshit weather.  Therapists called it ‘projecting, right?  
  
See, Dean had a perfect driving record against white outs, black ice and tundra-like snows.  Now that he’d had a near-death experience, he assumed everyone was gonna have the same problem.

While he knew the hospital would’ve contacted him immediately, his phone (along with the rest of his belongings) had flown out of Baby when her glass shattered and she’d rolled.  During the healing process, going out and getting a new phone wasn’t on his priority list.  Especially because his income was shoddy.  Not shoddy: he didn’t, like…have one.

Finally, right before the crack of dawn, Dean perked up—he heard his mate unlocking the door.  Home at last!

Instead of Cas’ usual routine, his alpha cut to the finale, heading directly for the bedroom.

With the lights out, unaware Dean was awake, Cas moved to the chest of drawers and peeled off his scrubs.  Huh.  That was even weirder: he hadn’t even taken the time to change at the hospital.

Dean did not mind the view one bit when his mate changed his boxers, pulled on his flannel pajama pants and turned around.  His scent of momentary glee was what prompted Cas’ reaction.

“Dean?  You’re still up?” he whispered in disbelief, closing in on the bed way too slow for his tastes.  “Did I wake you?

“First one.”  He turned his head to the side, and once his alpha was close enough—he could sniff out a heavy exhaustion.  “Where were you?”  
  
This was lame, Cas still hadn’t joined him!  His almost just…perched on the edge.  Feigning (no, forcing) a smile.  Dean added more cautiously, “You okay?”

Humming, Cas explained distantly, “I ended up working a double as a favor to a friend.  It’s been a while since I’ve experienced hazards of the job, but tonight…well.  No matter how well you’re trained for losing a patient, you’re never actually prepared.”

Dean had opened his mouth, poised with a million things to say, but the alpha beat him to the punch.

“I apologize I wasn’t able to tell you.  I feel awful you waited up for me.”  That rueful tone was one Dean absolutely hated.  “Did you get some sleep, at least?”

“Hush up and get your ass over here.”  Dean leaned as far as his body would allow and grabbed Cas' wrist, surprising himself with how much strength he still had when it counted.

Cas tumbled sideways and scooted in, sitting next to Dean instead of diving under the blankets.  The pin-straight strain he was under loosened up, just barely, and it meant Dean needed to do more.  Return the endless kindness Cas showered him with.  Dean felt he’d been all take and no give, this was his chance to do some of the latter.

Lacing their fingers together was easy, especially since Cas had already been drained of any fight.  He wouldn’t take advantage of him like this, but that didn’t mean Dean wouldn’t kiss him: the back of his hand, his cheek, this temple.  Eventually resting his head in the crook of Cas’ shoulder.

“If you’ve been up so long, you must be hungry.  Let me make you—”

“Stop,” Dean ordered as softly as he could.  “Do you wanna talk about it?  Sleep it off?”  Hesitantly, he offered, “Or I could help you forget for a little while.”

For the first time, Cas faced him with a surprising glint in his eye.  Maybe his normally iron-clad resolve was cracking.  Maybe it would be _Dean_ in charge of upholding their deal.

It didn’t matter, Dean went on to emphasize, “Whatever you want to do, it’s gonna be under the covers.  You better get in here, I missed you.”

Slowly but surely, Cas nodded.  He let go of Dean’s hand to pull back the sheets and tuck himself next to his mate.   _Finally._ This was what Dean had been waiting for all day and all night.

He hoped Cas would follow by example, Dean sliding down from the headboard and laying on the pillow, needing to be closer to Cas than what they were.  The distance wasn't just physical, there was more to it, a different kind of wall existed that felt more profound.  But Dean would wait it out.  
  
Cas' reaction time didn’t matter, because eventually, he came around.  Dean slung his arm across his mate’s middle and everything was perfect again.

Except…it wasn’t perfect for Cas.

Dean needed to correct the rigid alpha underneath him.  The tension came in waves, like breathing would.  One second, Cas would attempt (and for the most part: succeed) relaxing into the mattress.  The next, he’d be a stiff, straight board.

Nestling against him, still searching for the key, Dean wondered, “What can I do?” cupping his cheek and drawing his focus back towards him.

Maybe if Cas actually _looked at him_ , instead of the damn ceiling, he’d stand better chance.

“It’s fine, really.  Being here, being with you, is more than enough.”

While he didn’t believe him and knew the situation had hit Cas harder than he was admitting, Dean knew the score.  He’d lost people, too.  It never got easier, but in some professions, it was a fact of life.

It sucked.  Just from the way Cas took care of _him_ , Dean could tell that his work meant more to Cas than a regular, nine-to-five.  Under his alpha exterior, he used his strength to help, to care for people and work in different, unique ways betas and omegas couldn’t.  Hell, they probably needed him in high-stakes situations for that reason alone.

Goddammit, Dean knew he special, but maybe he hadn't thought of all the ways—such as this one.

There was something Dean knew Cas had heard before—but time had passed.  It may not do much, or carry weight coming from his mate.  Dean may even be a broken record, but he  _felt it_ with all his heart and it seemed important—

“I know the feeling.  When I'm down, being with you is enough, too,” Dean confirmed and slid in closer.  His nose brushed against the alpha’s stubble, trying emphasize and push all the meaning he could, into, “I love you, Cas.”

Wow.  Dean had _not_ been expecting this reaction.

The alpha’s cheek was replaced with surging, powerful lips and the bursting scent of passion—enough to make Dean’s head spin.  In a flash, he found himself breathless and on his back.

Cas took over, pressing against him, entangling their limbs anywhere and everywhere they could.  He'd solved what Dean thought to be an impossible puzzle: avoiding his injuries while slotting them together snugly, the sensation of Cas' hot skin all over his enthralling—leaving Dean speechless with his clever mouth.  
  
Of course, he was caught off guard, but that wasn't gonna last long!  He planned on being a very, _very_ active participant...  
  
Surging up into the kiss, his confidence in the position growing, Dean wrapped his good leg around his alpha’s waist, also looping an arm around his neck.

For the first time, it was Cas provoking him, Cas’ tongue tracing the seam of Dean’s lips and he didn’t hesitate when parting them.  Dean was eager, meeting his tongue and moaning for more—

Oh, fuck, no, _this_  was where they always stopped!

But…this time, they didn’t.  
  
Both afraid to ruin the moment _and_ anxious they could be taking that big step forward, Dean’s breath hitched in his chest.  No one was freezing, not really, how could he allow _himself_ to mess it up, worrying about stopping?  How fucking pointless was that!

Dean took a chance to pull him closer, to kiss him deeper, with the hunger he’d been holding back for so long.  
  
Soaring high and intoxicated on one another’s scents, Cas played off of Dean and took it to another level—like his revere’s on fire.

Cas tangled his hand in a fistful of Dean’s hair, wrenching his head to the side and nipping the cut of his jaw bone.

Now that Dean knew he wasn’t running away (not yet, at least), he didn’t hesitate to gasp and mewl when Cas’ nose, the flick of his tongue, traveled the length of his throat.

Those same noises turned up louder the moment he sunk his teeth into the meat of Dean’s shoulder.   _Fuck_ , Dean was dissolving at a neck-break-pace underneath his mate, especially when Cas returned his attention, that obsessive kind of worship, back to his throat.

The barest brush of teeth when he sucked Dean’s now-hypersensitive skin—dear god, Dean was soaking wet and just getting started—

All because of Cas' rapt attention, the teasing, but most importantly: the knowledge...  
  
If he _hadn’t_ wrecked his car, he’d be wearing Cas’ mark already.   _Right_ friggin _there_.  Where Cas' teeth were grazing, where he was sucking his skin black and blue.  
  
And his mate toying with him, reminding him of it?  Having been so damn close to _making it real,_ instead of just  _knowing_  it was?

Fuck, Dean could cum right now!

His nails dug in, they raked into the skin of Cas’ back, wanting to feel the drag of his cock, his knot, but unable to because of their position.   _Fuckinghell_ , his alpha could most _certainly_ feel how hard he was.

And when he pulled back enough to sniff the air, the way his eyes darkened further and sharpened dangerously told Dean: Cas could scent slick.

“Get back here,” Dean growled out, seizing the back of his neck and hauling them back together.  He managed to say, “I’d do anything, friggin’ _anything_ , to be with you right now,” before their lips collided again.

Because…he had to be responsible.  
  
Dean had to do something that would kill him.  
  
But in the morning (afternoon, whenever the hell they got up), Cas would thank him for it.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t make out like their lives depended on it, until they grew weary.  Still grabbing and clutching at one another, Dean’s boxers a mess, both aching to escalate but they…couldn’t.  
  
Dean kept that from happening: directing (and redirecting) Cas' focus back to his mouth, making sure any roaming hands stopped short.   _Motherfucker_ , he _hated_ himself for it!

Eventually, sweaty and panting, with their foreheads pressed together—they ran out of steam.  If they hadn’t been exhausted in the first place, who knew if they could’ve stopped.  If Cas had a tad more energy, the 'fight' in Dean probably wouldn't have been enough.  Dean honestly didn’t think it would’ve happened, unless Cas was the one to retreat—tonight he didn’t have that mindset.

Swallowing hard, Cas’ fingertips continued tracing Dean’s neck.  “I love you, too.”

And Dean’s heart skipped a beat.  Because this felt like the first time.

For him, these days?  It _was_  the first time.

It felt like he’d ran a marathon.  Dean was flushed, beaming and panting, when he said, “I wish our lives were normal again.  That we could mate.  Show the world I was, unquestionably, your omega.”

“We’ll get there.  I-I promise,” Cas fought against the exhaustion sinking in, pushing his limits to say the words, “What would I do without you?”

Shaking his head, Dean was incredulous.  “I was thinking the same thing.  But it doesn’t matter.”  He leaned forward for one more, lingering and intimate kiss.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

There it was.

The rich, intoxicating scent of his unburdened alpha—his mate—surrounding Dean in his safe place, where he wasn’t only wrapped in Cas’ arms but his heart.

If it took a few broken bones to gain all this time with Cas, to be spoiled with so much of his presence and showered in his love…but he couldn’t help but think—memories or not—it had brought them closer together.  Why the hell hadn’t Dean done this sooner?

\--------------------

Jo was going absolutely insane.

The maps and documents spread out in front of her, making her look like she was stalking a serial killer, didn’t do her any favors.

After endless calls, talking with friends face-to-face, harassing Dean’s workplace and dreading word from hospital and morgues—it hadn’t gotten her anywhere!  She was no closer to finding any signs of her best friend!

All these dead ends...shit looked bad.

Especially four days into her hunt, after the dropped call, when she noticed wet spots on the carpet after yet another adventure to Dean’s apartment.  Nothing made sense!

She’d checked his home right away!  No word, no activity, nada.  
  
It was radio-silence for four days: until a single new length of fresh tire prints appeared in Dean’s driveway.  Ones that didn’t match anyone’s car in the area but there were no footprints in the snow.  
  
Only _Jo’s_.  
  
The mystery remained: when Jo went inside, every single time, she took her shoes off in the doorway.

So why were there wet prints from someone’s snow-covers shoes having melted off walking around the living room?

And better yet—how had some of Dean’s personal belongings just vanished?

No.  His place _hadn’t_ been ransacked.  It wasn’t a robbery gone bad.  There were small things (useless, cheap things) randomly picked off _after_ his initial disappearance—an assbackwards, unprofitable crime that couldn't have been a crime.  It made no sense!  
  
Still…everyone knew: there was no way—no way in hell—he’d take off without telling someone!  Dean would _never_  deny her or Sam’s calls.  He’d never just—!  
  
She was persistent.  Unwilling to abandon her cause until she found a body: dead or alive.  
  
So she took another drive.

Today was another run, another mission where failure wasn’t an option (but possibly: inevitable) Jo went back to retrace her steps, rummage through Dean's place for the millionth time.  She had to be missing something.  Some clue that would led her to the reason he’d gone AWOL for over _two weeks_.  Although her odds were statistically declining, Jo's gut told her something _had_ to break.

Jo religiously checked his mail—she didn’t have the clearance to get his credit card statements—so maybe there was a lead in there.  Banks always sent statements, the time would be rolling around and she needed to make sure she got to that envelope _first,_  especially if there was another player on the board.  
  
She was on her own.  The goddamn cops didn’t think this was a missing persons case.  It wasn’t because of his age, no, they didn’t bother sugarcoating it: Dean was “an omega with a ‘record.’”

Which gave him permission to just run away!?

The record was bullshit!  Any 'fine print' happened when he was getting his friends out of trouble, then getting roped up and caught in the middle.  Nothing even stuck, no conviction, no _anything_ —but it was still on paper.  
  
It was enough that so-called ‘upstanding officers’ didn't give a shit.  Allowing him to become a statistic, a ‘troubled omega’ who wasn’t worth their time!

Sitting at the counter, Jo began rifling through the constant ever-growing build-up of envelopes.

She did a double-take when one logo caught her eye.  It was a guess, another gut feeling, but the sender resonated.  She tore through the papers for an answer.

“ _No way_ …”

The words on the page left her breathless.   _This_ was the missing link she’d been waiting for!

At the same time, it felt like a slap in the face.  This was an avenue she’s been pursuing, constantly, that yielded no results.

In her hands laid a _hefty_ hospital bill.  
  
Dean's admission date had been on the very same day, near the exact time, she’s last heard from him on the phone.  Holy shit, Dean had been treated, he had made it: he _was_  alive!

But…where the fuck was he now!?

Before she knew it, her phone was in her hand and ringing.

Once answered, Jo didn’t mince her words when launched into, “Hi, I’ve been calling to check in about a patient, Dean Winchester?  I was told there was no one there with his name.  Yet, I just received a bill that proves he was under this hospital’s care.  What the hell is that about?”

“Ma’am, when did you call?  How long was his stay?“  Jo followed the lines of the letter to respond, and was met with, “At the time of your inquiry, we would’ve searched for those registered.  Not those who had been _discharged_.  Mr. Winchester had already been cleared and sent home.”

That answer?  It infuriated her!

“Sent home?!”  She tried to reign in her volume, her spite, and cleared her throat.  “I’m sorry. I just—crap—who was he released to?  Please, I've…been going out of my mind, looking for my best friend.”  

Jo doubled over, her forehead falling into her arms crossed on the table.  “I’ve been so scared something awful happened, I-I need to make sure he’s okay.  I have no idea where he is.  Knowing he was treated is the first hope I've had in over two weeks that he's actually _alive_.”

The woman on the phone hesitated.  It was the longest pause of Jo’s life.

“I can’t legally give you that information, but,” she’d obviously picked up the urgency in Jo’s voice.  “I can give it to _Sam_ Winchester—since he’s listed on record.  And he’s there with you now, right?”

Oh my God, this was her break!  She was throwing Jo a lifeline, of course, she’d play along!

“Yep.   _Right_ beside me.  He wants to know more than I do!   _Don’t you, Sam_?”  For effect, Jo shouted out into the empty house.  “Thank you.”

It was clear she had already pulled up the records.  Instantly reading from the file, “He was discharged to Castiel Novak.  Still living on 202 East Monroe.”

The news was jarring.

Jo kept her composure and once again urged, “You’re a lifesaver!” hanging up and grabbing her coat.

There was a split-second crash from the high, receiving word Dean _wasn't dead_ , before more adrenaline spiked from a whole new problem.

In absolute bewilderment, she hissed out, “Who the fuck is Castiel Novak?!” while plugging the address into her phone, and running to the door.

She sure as shit was about to find out!

\-------------------------

It was getting late and Cas knew he should begin leading them to bed.

But, God, with Dean pillowed on his lap, hand absently stroking his leg… They were in the perfect spot for Cas to scent that blissful, open contentment and…he didn’t want to leave it.

There were always ten minutes between their nightly rituals, between TV and getting to bed, where the omega complained loudly and dialed up a sequence of dramatics.  Cas knew them well.

Dean ’didn’t want to move.’  He was ’too comfortable and wasn’t ready for sleep.’  Moving and changing 'was gonna be a pain in the ass and friggin hurt.’  So ‘unless Cas carried him, he was planting himself right the fuck here, like a goddamn daisy.’

Naturally, once they actually reached their location, it was a different story.

His omega nestled against him in a flash.  Some nights he pushed boundaries on what and wasn’t considered an 'acceptable make-out session,' yet it was always light, playful.  Teasing Cas relentlessly about the time they’d almost taken it all the way, and—shit, it was true—he almost _had_.

The fatigue had clouded his judgment and with the nearly dawning sun, Dean fearlessly saying he loved him—  
  
Everything had flown out the window.  Everything.  In that moment, they were _real_.  Cas had almost made love to him on the spot, if it wasn’t for _Dean’s_ restraint.  And subsequent fatigue.

The best part, was it hadn’t been a fluke—saying I love you.  
  
Every night since, when he was wrangling Dean to bed, his omega would say just that: while shoving his face against Cas’ neck, sighing happily, and soon, he’d be out like a light.  No matter the path, Cas would be able to return the words and hold him.  That’s all that mattered.

Which was why Cas had to remind Dean there were _reasons_ to get his ass moving.  Sometimes he’d use those exact things as _incentives_.

He was wondering what kind of motivation would work best tonight…

“Hey, Cas…” Dean rolled around until he was looking straight up at him, curiously.  “You expecting anyone this late?”

“Huh?”  He did a double-take, glancing out his window.

And Dean was right—a pair of headlights with their brights on weren’t merely pulling into his driveway, the car had come out of nowhere, whipping around the corner and slamming to a halt.  With the blinds drawn, Cas hadn’t a clue who it was, unable to make out details.

He waited, squinting at the shape of the car, offering a faraway, “I hadn’t been—”

A loud, wake-the-dead kind of knock boomed through the house, clear into the living room.

Both of them jumped, Dean jolting up from Cas’ lap while Cas shot up at attention.

Before he could even approach the door, a female voice shouted from the other side, “Castiel Novak!  I know you’re in there!  Let me in!” but he had _no idea_ who the hell it could be—

When he stood up, with every intention of calming the woman down, he noted a change in Dean’s scent—but didn’t have time to analyze it.  She hadn’t stopped knocking.  If he waited any longer, she would break the damn door down!  At the very least, wake the entire neighborhood!

What began with Cas turning the knob, ended in his guest _flinging_ it open once unlocked.  He was met with a very fiery, petite blonde woman and she _wasn’t_ happy.

She sniffed him and her eyes went wide, “Oh God.  He _really is_  here…” gasping out, “Dean!” while ducking under Cas’ arm—trying to find him, needing to confirm with her eyes what her nose had told her—

That was the moment Castiel knew his entire world was about to implode on itself.  The moment he’d been dreading, that would decimate his paradise.

This was the beginning of the end.


	4. It's Complicated

Jo was frantic as she pushed past the alpha and into the living room, her eyes doubling in size once they landed on Dean.  “Holy fuck!  Oh my God, _oh my God_ , ohmyGod—”

She launched herself towards him, Castiel winced upon impact, Dean howling out a pained, “Joanna Beth!  Calm the hell down!  What’s the matter with you!?”

While visibly shaken, her eyes darted back and forth between Castiel and Dean, sniffing the air.  Jo had come to the door all Hellfire and fury, and no—the fight had _not_ drained—but a heaping spoonful of confusion added to her perfect storm.  
  
Without real direction of where to go, what to say first, she just began spouting out at the mouth.  
  
The tornado that was Jo Harvelle on a crash-course aimed at  _Dean_.

“So— _what_ ?  You find your true mate and just disappear?!  Leaving everyone to think you’re fucking dead?!  Do you have any idea— _any whatsoever—_ of how terrified we all were!  We had no clue what had happened to you, we had to dig and dig for _scraps_ of an answer!  I was out of options until something came in your mail—and I find you _here_?!  Just…chilling out.  Playing house!  And forgetting us?!” she roared, shoving Dean away from the hug she had been the one to initiate.

“Dude!”  Dean was offended while Cas stood by, silent.  “Who else was gonna take care of me besides my mate?  I couldn’t ask any of you to drop everything—look at me—I’m a full-time job!  I wrecked Baby and _got wrecked_ in the process!”

Jo shrieked back, “But none of us _knew_ you were a full-time job!  God, you know we’d do anything for you, you’re family!”  Abruptly, she narrowed her eyes at the alpha and questioned, “And back up!   _Mate_?  When the fuck did that happen?  You’re not even looking for an alpha!  Does he have a name?”

Dean opened his mouth but stopped, confusion swirling around him like a cloud—sightings of the next storm were heavy on the horizon.

“I thought you two had met.  Cas told me you’ve met…” he squinted between them, and then wondered even louder towards his alpha, “And you _told me_ that _you_ got ahold of them.  ‘Cause my phone was demolished in the crash.  My amnesia got the best of me, you said you had their numbers and had told my family I was safe, that I was recovering, with you!”

“…Amnesia?!”  Brazenly, Jo stomped into Cas’ personal space, informing Dean, “We must all have amnesia, ‘cause I’ve never heard of a ‘Cas.’”  
  
She closed in, staring the alpha dead in the eye, when announcing, “And this dude?  He didn’t do jackshit!  Dean, we were petrified you were dead.”  With a firm poke in the chest, she growled from nearly an inch away, “You took advantage of him.  You didn’t call because you didn’t know _who_ to call to begin with, huh?  You thought you had dibs because you found your true mate, and didn‘t give a shit about the rest of us!”

“Wait, stop!  You psycho!” Dean stumbled to stand up, grappling for his crutches and fighting through the pain to turn around.  “No, that’s crap, Jo!   _Of course_ , he gives a shit!  Use your eyes, hell, yer nose—I’ve been a handful, life has been friggin _crazy_ and I’m sure it just slipped his mind to—”

“No, Dean,” the alpha interrupted, voice brimming with regret.  He addressed Jo directly, acknowledging, “It’s my fault.  I should have sought you out.  To tell you I was caring for him.  I’m completely to blame.”

Dean was rendered completely and utterly speechless.

Jo pressed on, for both Dean’s sake and her own: “Did you even know him before the accident?”

“I was the one who came upon the crash and found him, bringing him to the hospital.  And, yes, when I discovered our bond, I wanted to be the one who protected him.  See his recovery through to the end.  I was blinded, foolish and I apologize.”  His genuine confession earned him some space, Jo turned back to Dean, still in shock.

She crossed her arms and shook her head before crossing the distance and sniffing her best friend.  _Damn_ , just like she’d thought…  
  
Jo knew she’d allowed her emotions to get the best of her since she walked through that door, saying—bitching, yelling, demanding—too much, without filtering out a goddamn word from her mouth: so why quit now?  
  
“Well, I’m too late to stop you.”  Jo laughed at the irony, of her alpha-wary-omega bestie being saved by an alpha white knight.  “You’re way past bonded—you may as well be mated.  Damn, that went fast.”

While hanging from his crutches, Dean’s mind seemed to catch up and his metallic burst of fury overshadowed even Jo’s, filling up the entire room.

Dean gave himself whiplash, pivoting back to face her and ordering, “Wait for me in the car.  I’ll be out shortly.”

This time, it was concern that washed over her, but Jo paused...unsure who to be concerned _about_.  Studying them both—seeing Cas mournfully collapsed in on himself while Dean’s back arched like an angry cat—she already knew where this was going to lead.  She sure as hell didn’t want to be around for it.

“All right, I’ll keep the heat running.  Anything you need me to grab?”

The silence, the now-suffocating scents, the way Dean was staring Cas down—he was a dead man—so yeah, Jo turned tail and ran back to her car.

The second they were alone, Cas lifted his hands defensively, trying to soothe, “Dean, _please_ allow me to explain, it’s—”

“Not what it looks like?!  ‘Cause if anything she‘s saying is true, you are certified  _bat-shit crazy_!”  He choked while fighting against the half-million kinds of emotions bubbling up—instead, ignoring them, by demanding, “What is this?  Kidnapping?   _Human trafficking_?!” gesturing wildly, knocking his crutches against the coffee table, “Are you—”

Cas couldn’t hold back the snipped, “You’re being a bit over dramatic.”

“Am I?  Or do I just have Stockholm’s at this point?!”  There was the barest hint of fear in his question, “Where do my real memories begin and the fake ones end?”  
  
The helplessness in the question held the same quality begged in those nights Dean asked ‘what if I don’t get my memories back?’  
  
In this moment, Castiel would have sold his soul to give Dean the right answer, or to have been able to work out a situation where the omega wasn’t backed into a corner.  Where the struggles and impact on him, mentally, wasn’t as overpowering.  What happened between them was a lot of things, but it was never a mind game, he had to prove it!

“Should I start from the beginning?” the alpha implored, hating the distance between them and taking a step in.

“No—!”  
  
Dean’s gut-reaction to recoil nearly sent him toppling backwards over his bulky cast, trying to get away.  “ _No—_ I mean—I—”  He instantly shook his head.  “I don’t, I-I don’t trust _myself_.  I need time to let this sink in, I need time alone.”

Fighting like hell not to pull him in, to hold him, tell him everything was going to be alright, Cas used his words instead of his touch.  “You still need someone to help you.  Please, we can talk this through, give me a chance to tell you my side of the story, then in two days when we remove your stitches, you can go home.  You don’t need to be alone for this to sink in…I want to answer your questions.”

Violently, Dean shook his head.  “Not gonna work, pal.  Now I get it.  The weirdo things you did make sense...”  He pitched his voice back over to Cas as he began moving forward, limping towards the door.  “Why you gave me an out, mentioning my house. Why you wouldn’t let things get hot and heavy between us.  You were covering your own ass!”

“I wasn’t covering anything!” Cas snapped.  “I knew this day would come, but I thought you’d give me the benefit of a conversation!  No, you don’t owe me.  And _no_ , I never expected anything in return, but I’d _hoped_ our bond was worth enough that you’d hear me out!”  
  
As a last ditch effort, both out of frustration and persistence, the alpha barked out, “I fell in love with you on my own.  Not just because we’re true mates.”

The omega froze right before he reached for the door handle, his spine going stick-straight.  
  
“We’re meant to be together, one way or another.”  Cas shuddered around the confession, “But I’ve never spoken those words aloud before, I...I never thought I’d need to.”

All the chaos that encircled Dean became more muddled, as aggravation, hints of nostalgia and the smallest tinges of longing added to the rage.

“True mates?”  His voice was low, barely a whisper when he asked, “Jo wasn’t just sayin’ that as a blow-off, fuck-you?  We, you and me, we...are?”

“Why else would you believe I was your alpha?  Believe we were something from nothing?”  Cas was honest: “Maybe...I was waiting until you had all the facts.  Until you knew the truth and needed help making sense of our fantasy life.  I had nothing but good intentions.  I wanted to be with, to take care, and know my true mate.”

“Fantasy life, huh?  Is that what you call it?” he mused ruefully.  “Sounds about right.”

Dean fumbled grabbing the doorknob, mind elsewhere, and Cas decided he didn’t care if the omega didn’t want to be anywhere near him—he was still going to help.  Even if helping meant assisting Dean as he left his life.

“I‘m getting your coat,” the alpha informed as he walked closer and Dean hesitated.  “Please, don’t panic.  It’s cold out, will you allow me…?”

Dean nodded but didn’t say a word—that innate trust was still there.  Both knew previously, from a random conversation that the leather jacket hanging near the hallway had sentimental value.  While it did little to cut through the cold, it meant something to the omega, like a security blanket, and if Cas wasn’t going to see him again?  He’d send him on his way the best he could.

In his own coat of armor, Dean watched Cas open both the screen and the door, to hold them open for him.  And he just…stared.

Stared at the ignorantly barefoot Cas on snow, completely defeated and reeking of heartbreak.  He was wrecked, unable to lift his eyes to meet the omega’s.  But Dean _wanted_ to look him in the eyes.  What kind of true mate love confession gets blurted out and then everything ends?

Oh yeah. _Dean_ did that.  He was also letting the winter chill into Cas’ house the longer he lingered.

“Thank you for being a great caregiver,” Dean pushed the words out, they felt impersonal—distance.  He was so confused, unsure what to think, but he knew he had to move.

Still, one thing was bothering him.

“Cas.  Look at me.”  He couldn’t bite back the order, and when the alpha did just that—

Fucking hell.  He was infinitely more shattered than Dean had thought.  His heart ached _for him_ , he wanted to go back to that ‘ fantasy life’ Cas had described, except Jo had broken their glass house into all these jagged pieces and…there was no going back.

If Dean could, though…yeah, maybe he’d turn back the clock.  Recognizing that was telling.

With the alpha hurting like this, his feet probably frozen in the heavy-packing snow on the porch—he realized one very important thing standing out, now that the bullshit of ‘the story’ was gone.  He needed confirmation in the worst way:

“You found me.  You saved my life that day.”

With a weak smile and a nod, Cas acknowledged, “I did what any other good Samaritan would do.  I’d do it over again.  Everything afterwards, was when things became…complicated.”

“Heh, _complicated_ ,” Dean grimaced around the word.  He saw the lights of Jo’s car flashing as she backed up, reversing to come as close as possible.  “You bet your ass things are complicated.”

Castiel watched on, his stomach rolling over, churning, making him sick, as Dean’s gaze finally dropped away and he began to head for the car.  
  
The snow and the ice had the alpha on pins and needles—ready to jump out and catch Dean if he slipped—but at this point: maybe he would rather fall than allow Cas to touch him again?

After he managed the steps and the short walk, Jo hopped out of the car and helped him into the passenger’s side.  She grabbed his crutches and tossed them in the back, shutting Dean’s door soundly.

Upon sparing one more glance at Cas, Jo hesitated.  She shifted back and forth on her feet, her eyes flitting around, the alpha remained frozen as he watched, his feet growing more and more numb in the snow.  
  
Ultimately, Jo surprised the hell out of him when she decided to stalk back up the steps.

Still as a statue, Castiel waited for Jo’s words in fear.  He wasn’t expecting, “I almost believed it.  That’s why I was so mad.”

“Believed what?”

“That Dean had met his true mate.  And he ran off with you.  All while we were filing Missing Persons reports, calling jails, hospitals and morgues.  It’s what I lowered the boom on you so hard.  I thought it was real.”  Jo chewed her lip, digging her hands into her pockets.  “I mean, yeah, it’s really—”

“Complicated,” Cas filled in, unable to hear another harsh word.

“Right...complicated.”  She went along with it.  “Something tells me this isn’t the last you’ll see of each other.  I’ll bet on it.  And I’ve got your contact info now, even if Dean doesn’t.  I’ll update you on how he’s doing.  I get it, it’s important to you, and I get _why._   My nose works, after all.”

“I appreciate it very much,” he breathed a sigh of relief.  “That’s all I care about.  That Dean’s all right.  Please, have someone stay with him the next two days—then his stitches can come out.  After that, he may only require daily visits.  Or check-ins.  I hope—”

“I’ll call you for more info, good doctor.”  With a wink, she began walking backwards.  “I gotta take off before the Princess throws a hissy fit.  He can destroy shit you never knew was breakable—I like my car's interior in one piece.  I’ll probably need to make some changes around the house to account for his, uh, situation.  But I promise, he's in good hands.”

Cas heaved out an exhale and agreed, watching Jo round her car and jump in.

Although the headlights reflecting on the snow fragmented much of his view, the alpha could feel eyes on him.  He only wished he could see Dean as well as Dean could see him.

His feet had long since lost feeling, he needed to get back inside, to warm up in front of the fireplace.  Maybe even drink himself stupid tonight.  After all, no matter how forgiving he could pray the omega would be, no one was making up tonight.  
  
Or in the foreseeable future.  
  
It didn’t matter that Castiel logically knew this day would come, he hadn’t prepared.  Instead, opting to live in every moment he was given until then.  The type of mess he’d gotten himself in didn’t come with a warning manual: he knew he was doomed for a hard, fast and rude awakening.  
  
Thank God he hadn’t tried to brace himself, it would’ve been a waste of time.  Nothing could have prepared him for this kind of hurt.

Cas needed to gather all Dean’s clothing, all the belongings he’d left and acquired since being here.  Yes—Cas definitely need excessive amounts of alcohol to do this task without breaking down.  If he blacked out and broke down, at least he wouldn’t remember.  
  


\-----------------------

On the way home, Dean used Jo’s phone to call his brother and let him know he was alive.

Sam’s relief was palpable the second he heard Dean's voice, and when Jo ordered to put it on speaker, she indicated to both Sam and Dean, “This frail little flower needs twenty-four-hour care for the next two days.  We can take shifts.  What’s your work schedule like, Sam?”

“What?!” Dean blubbered out, “Was this Cas?  Just because he’s a nurse, doesn’t mean—!”

“He’s a nurse?”  Jo flashed a shark-like grin.  “Well, now I’m taking this double-seriously!”

Sam asked from the other line, “Wait, who’s Cas?  How bad is Dean hurt?  I can take evenings into nights, but you guys have gotta give me more—”

“No, not open for discussion.”  Dean was crabby, this was a new, fresh and very open wound—an emotional one, at that.  The physical ones didn’t compare to how badly this ached.  “All I’m saying is: I’m going home.  I don’t wanna talk about where I’ve been.  I’ll let you assholes take care of me for _two days_ , fine, and that’s it!  After, I want my privacy!”

There was no room for debate, and nothing but static filled the car and the call.

Eventually, Sam cleared his throat.  “I understand.  I’ll coordinate with Jo.  I’m so damn happy you’re okay, Dean.  I know it sounds cheesy, but after what we went through?  I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally cheesy,” he laughed and grabbed the phone again.  “See you later, baby bro.”

When Dean hung up, it was Jo who suggested, “We really need to get you a new phone.  I fully intend to give you your space.   _When_ you’ve reached that point.  But _dude._   You look like you got hit by a bus!  You don’t have a car, you don’t have a landline, if you fall over when yer taking a dump, you’re screwed.”

“Agreed.”  He didn’t fight with her on this one.  “It’s too late now. Tomorrow we go on a field trip?”

Jo seemed to think about it before deciding, “No.  I’ll have Sam pick one up before we trade shifts.  If you’re still on bed rest, I highly doubt you’re ready to gallivant around.”

Childishly sinking back into his seat, it dawned on Dean: this was going to be ten times worse than being with Cas.  At least the alpha gave him some freedom, autonomy!  Sam and Jo were going to be in his business, hovering and harassing him at every turn!

“Whatever.”

Dean only had to make it until he got his stitches out though, right?  Then he could have the solitude.  To think, to wallow if he wanted, and to gather his mile-a-minute thoughts.  It was so important, because he was lost, his heart throbbed as if mourning something he...he never really had.  
  
Maybe once he had the time to collect himself he’d get some clarity, because, right now: all he had was turmoil and upheaval.

\--------------------------------

Jo had not, by any stretch of the mind, expected to find Dean in the shape he was in or where he was.

Everything had come as a shock, she hadn’t even had a chance to take in the severity of his injuries because her best friend had found his true mate and then basically, ended the relationship before her eyes.

It didn’t matter: the bottom line was freakin’ _true mates,_  they would find their way back to each other!  Jo didn’t have to feel guilty for long, her plan was to help Dean now, touch base with Cas tomorrow and fill Sam in on the insanity she’d walked into.

Helping Dean change his clothes was a clusterfuck—

Jo elbowed his head hard enough to stun him.  She’d forgotten which arm was sprained and yanked on it.  Oh, and _then_ she used his broken ribs to steady herself when taking off his damn boxers!

It was a mess.  It literally couldn’t have gone worse.

Dean grumbled, ‘At least they were at the stage of letting the wounds breathe’ because he wasn’t letting her anywhere near a bandage change.

She didn’t want to be accountable for that either!  The more she messed up, the more she could tell how much he missed the chemistry and ease he’d developed with his fake-mate.  Jo could never replicate that, she couldn’t come close.

Hopefully Sam was (at least) better equipped at taking care of his injuries.

Luckily, there were two things Jo was _excellent_ at: preparing Dean a feast with the food in his kitchen (most of it hadn’t yet expired) and using that to distract him while she brought the essentials downstairs.

He shamelessly moaned around the three-course dish, diving in wholeheartedly and the view was a welcomed sight.  Last month, Dean’s over-the-top slobishness may have been gross and annoying, but not today!

Jesus, she was honest-to-god terrified she’d lost him for those couple weeks.

Jo’s laughter filled the rooms, able to hear Dean’s happy noises echo through the condo while she gathered his things together upstairs.

Eventually, and with armfuls of goodies, she centered Dean’s life around a couch and coffee table.  It was a nice couch!  She’d slept on it many times, and it was practical.  Taking on the stairs to reach his bedroom would be too difficult this early on for Dean.  The harsh curve of the casing, elevation and steepness would make navigation impossible—they may as well be Mount Everest to him!

So she made the couch up, dressing it like a bed and Dean seemed pretty damn comfy.  With his belly full, being back at home with his family, he _was_ content—unbeknownst to him, Jo could scent a melancholy lingering below the surface.

Dean was missing something.  He wasn’t whole anymore, and Jo wondered if _he_ knew exactly how connected he and Cas were?

She tucked him in, kissed his forehead and explained, in whispers, Sam would be there soon.

What Dean didn’t know, was that Jo was meeting up with him for a long, sit-down talk, _and then_ trading shifts.  
  
Oh, Sam was headed into a palace of eggshells.  There was so much his brother needed to know, so many things he needed to avoid, should and shouldn’t say—  
  
Dean’s place wasn't a warm home any longer, it was walking into a trap!

Luckily, Jo knew how this trap was sprung, and Sam better start thinking of ways to thank her.  She _did_ get his brother back, too, and all...

\------------------------------

Dean woke up early—too damn early—and it was only then that he realized he’d left his medication at Cas’.  Fuck, he’d left his _entire life_ at Cas’!

Except, he scented amusement before he even realized it was coming from his brother.  He also recognized the rattle of pills.

“Need some help?” Sam asked softly from across the living room.

“No way.”  Dean peered over to him, in mystified shock and intrigue, demanding, “How did you get those?”

With a shrug, he informed, “Jo went on some errands.  Your…” he stopped in his tracks, grappling for the right word before stumbling over the sentence, “Your f-friend had started getting your stuff together.  He put your meds out on the table—telling Jo she needed to deliver them right away.”

Sam laughed, feeling more in his element when he relayed, “She said he was smashed.  Apparently, the guy’s hilarious when he’s drunk.  Jo hung out with him a while.  Then she helped him get your stuff together.  It’s all here.”

Something inside Dean ignited and burned to life, he just didn’t know _what_.  “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

Sniffing the air, his brother guessed, “Jealous?  That’s what I’m picking up.”  He removed the cap, two pills falling into his palm, which he handed off to Dean.  “Don’t worry.  He’s not going anywhere.”

Dammit, now feeling called out and awkward, he was blushing!  Especially because Dean Winchester had never been jealous in his life—let alone of Jo, his friggin sister!

He sat up, tossed the pills back with a wash of water, a glower etched onto his face.  
  
—Why would he be jealous?!  What did he have to prove?   _He_ was the one who left _Cas_!  He didn’t have any rights over him, not anymore…even though it was Jo who took a wrecking ball to their little getaway and (apparently) got to reap the benefits...

During his internal debate, Sam moved to take a seat on the couch next to him.  Normally, Dean would have complained or made a cheeky comment but…he missed the constant of Cas’ proximity.  This wasn’t a replacement, but maybe his personal bubble had shrunken?  Maybe he missed the constant presence...

Whatever it was, Sam didn’t scent of sympathy, instead, he could fill a room with his acceptance.  Which is what he did.  Which was weird…

“Hey, I’m glad you’re okay.  When I got here, wow, it was uncanny.  After looking for you for so long, seeing you asleep on the couch, it was like looking at a ghost.”  He ran a hand through his stupid-long hair.  “But you had to have felt safe, right?  Or else you would’ve found a way out.  Or else you would’ve gotten a hold of us, wouldn’t you?  You always listen to your instincts, mostly because they're always right.”

When phrased like that…his outlook was a little different.

Even though the omega didn’t like the words and he was still coming to terms with the harshness that _was_  reality, he’d take it one step at a time.  This was one of those steps.

“Yeah.  I really did feel safe.  I was under the impression he told you I was okay, and you were a’okay with him taking care of me.  ‘Cause he was my mate.  And you approved.  And...he did—he took really, really good care of me.”  Dean muttered as a blow-off attempt, “Probably ‘cause he’s a nurse.”

“Nah,” Sam instantly shot it down.  “It wouldn’t have mattered if he was a _surgeon_.  You don’t trust people without a reason.  No matter what he told you, you wouldn’t have fallen for it unless you felt there was truth.  You know it.  I know it.  Don’t be hard on yourself.  Or too hard on him.”

Dean was surprised by the passion in his brother’s voice, you wouldn’t think someone who stole Dean away would get the benefit of the doubt from his own flesh and blood!

“You two are meant to be together, you’re true mates.  That’s, Jesus, that’s _incredible_.”  He was in awe, and yeah—Dean kinda understood the feeling.  
  
He kind of hated that he was finding out at the same time as everyone else.  Hell, _Jo_ knew before he did!  Dean absently wondered how many other people got that nugget of truth before him.  
  
Of course, it made total sense—their situation could only be explained by the unexplainable, but _if only_ he’d known a little sooner, or—  
  
Oh, Sam wasn’t done yet—he was just getting started—launching into his flurry of questions.  “Please be honest, okay?  Did he take advantage of you?  Force you to do anything?  Or rather: lure you into anything?  Do you _feel_ taken advantage of?  Or do you feel he really did help you?”

Instantly, Dean burst out, “No—he _never_ took advantage of me!  Hell, I was the one who constantly tried to _lure him_  into sex!  And I was shut down.  Every time!  I’m _still_ a walking, talking ball of sexual frustration because of how damn respectful he was!  He’d barely kiss me!”  He paused his complaining with the epiphany, “Huh…”

“So you were safe.  You were well taken care of.  He never used you or the situation for gratification.  I think, yeah, let him sweat it out.  Take time to think about it but, _Dean_?”  Sam flashed those Stage 5 puppy-eyes.  “Don’t get dragged under by the shitty things.  Remember the good, hell—the great.  I know it’s there and I want you to be happy.  With whatever you decide.”

He watched Sam stand up and his posture relaxed.  Dean raised an eyebrow when he inquired, “You been holding in that speech all night?”

“Yep.  Do you want coffee?”

“Sure, I don’t think I’m going back to sleep anytime soon…”

And he wasn’t.

Sam had prompted too many alternatives, too many different outlooks.  Fresh eyes on ways to see and justify all of Cas’ actions—who knew if they were his alone or prompted and supported by Jo.  While it wasn’t a choice, afterwards was what counted, that was the point his brother was trying to make.  He got it…

“Netflix and…Netflix?” Dean got a false-start, the ‘and cuddle’ tag-line automatically finishing the sentence.

That one stung.

“Sounds good.”  Sam remained blissfully ignorant, waiting for the Keurig to heat up as Dean scanned through shows.

All while he actively avoided _everything_ he and Cas were bingeing together.  Looking for something random—something mindless—that had the best chance of getting Dean out of his head.  Who was he kidding?

Sam had done his job, the bitch dared him to think back to his alpha and now he was screwed!

\-------------------------------

The more Dean thought about the whole ‘amnesia’ ordeal, the more he was confused.  As was his own willingness, going along with it.

Somewhere along the way, Dean was so intent and focused on regaining the memories he lost, the last things that happened were...blurred out.  Dean had lost time surrounding the event—even meshing the days before the crash—the concussion _had_ left him so jumbled.

Now that he was alone, he was working to get that part back.  The _real_ memories.

It was ridiculous!  All the times Dean had a flash of Cas, thinking his brain was sparking back to life, as though the damage was reversing, nothing had been wrong in the _first place._  He’d hoped so hard for something that wasn’t there, he’d made the impossible happen—Dean had given himself an alternate life.

The cold-hard fact remained: the second he woke from that hospital bed and saw Cas, he knew he was something special.  There was no denying it.

Even more ridiculous, if his memory (yes, the one he _could_  rely on) served him correct—this whole situation wasn’t even Cas’ fault!  There were endless blanks for him to fill in but…Dean remembered the exchange quite vividly.  
  
After all, it had changed his life forever.

Upon waking in the hospital, the nurse told him he had an attentive mate—seeking him out in the storm.  Or else, Dean would be dead.

In a moment of weakness…Dean remembers his ramblings: “ _Mate?  Oh my God, I hit my head, I don’t remember!  Goddammit, shit, shit, shit—_ ”

It became clear… _Dean_ was the one who came up with entire amnesia explanation.

_“I didn’t mean to.  I’m sorry about whatever put me on the road today.  I-I’m hopin’ against hope this amnesia is only temporary.  How the fuck could I forget someone like you?”_

Without a lick of bias, Cas kind of rolled with Dean’s punches.

Of course, he could’ve corrected him—but getting _that_ kind of response from someone you’d saved from the brink of hypothermia and a car wreck?  Someone who’s undeniably your _true mate_?  Tensions had to be high, he probably wasn’t thinking clearly, who could blame him?

God, what a strain this had to have put on Cas, too.

As Sam had brought up…Cas’ touch was innocent, he disregarded and declined Dean’s advances.  He got lucky they were able to cuddle at all!  
  
Helping him change in and out of clothes was clinical.  No one would’ve put up with Dean’s breakdowns, the amount of work and stress he caused, like Cas had.

God, his family would’ve kept pushing it off on other members, they’d drive each other _insane—_ yet Cas did it with a smile.  He did it with love and affection and—

Love.  Fuckin’ hell.  
  
They loved each other, too—didn’t they?

His alpha had reminded him, right as he was walking out that door.

It wasn’t a last ditch effort, Cas knew by then Dean’s mind was made up: he was out of there, no matter what was said.  Still, it was more important now than ever, with the truth spilled out all over the floor, and since they’d woken from the dream—he loved Dean, true mates be damned, he _still_ loved him.

Knowing that both warmed him and stabbed him, Dean was fighting mind over matter.  Brain over heart.  But he did know _one thing._

He checked the clock, and—punctual as expected—came a knock at the door.

Dean had left it unlocked from his singular journey to the kitchen, refusing to limp anywhere, when he was comfortably sunken into the couch.  Plus, he could project louder than anyone he knew.

Dean did just that with an obnoxious, “Door’s open!”

The knob turned and gave way, and, fuckin' sue him, the sight made Dean’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

“Hello, Dean.”  The greeting was tentative, the stumble in his pace impossibly more nervous.  “I brought my kit, if you’re ready?”

Maybe he missed him…

“Sure as hell am, mind helping me get this off?” Dean tugged at the edge of his shirt.  “God, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment—”

“For over fourteen days,” Cas supplied helpfully, the ghost of a smile on his face.  He gingerly set his bag on the table and did something he‘d done a million times, warning, “Here,” as he worked the t-shirt over the slowly-but-sure healing sprain, and folded it next to him on the couch.

Scooting in for a closer look, the alpha was literally all business.  Soon, after a cursory analysis, he hummed, “These are healing very nicely.  All of them can be removed,” and tore open the packaging of sanitized tools.

“Nothing like room service.”

To be honest?

Dean was a little frustrated.  A-lot-a frustrated.  Cas didn’t know he was going mad, he _totally_ cheated, utilizing his blockers from home just so he’d have an advantage and keep it.

Yeah, okay, this _was_ Cas’ vocation.  He’d invited the alpha here today to help him avoid a hospital trip.  While that was the ‘reason’, the _real point_ was opening up a line of communication!

And here Cas was: shearing and plucking and extracting all the little threads that didn’t belong in Dean’s body.  Which was great and all (even when he cringed at the drag against his skin, the huge gashes half-eating the stitches) but Dean had been the bigger man—basically offering a peace treaty.

Cas wasn’t engaging.  He wasn't responding to it, _to him_ , or getting it!  Well…Dean shouldn’t be surprised.

At the end of the day, he knew Cas, through and through.  The alpha was adorably dense and lacked a keen eye for subtlety.  Dean would need to spell it out for him, wouldn’t he?  Maybe a casual conversation was the best way to begin?  No matter how efficiently he worked, there was a ton of it left for Cas to do, why not fill the blank air.

“How’ve you been?”  God, that was the _worst_ line ever.

Dean already knew Cas had been going through hell, he even flinched at the question, but slid back into his task.  “I’ve been keeping busy.  Traded shifts with co-workers.  Been working.”

“Nonstop?  Have you slept?”  Dean rolled his eyes, having meant it sarcastically, because he was fishing for a topic with more depth.  
  
He immediately bit his tongue.

Now that he mentioned it, the bags under Cas’ eyes were obvious—as was the answer: no, he'd not.  Cas was clearly riding high on caffeine even when his deft fingers worked with practiced ease, and Dean wanted to smack himself at his tactlessness.  There was no denying the bone-deep exhaustion under the aromatic charm of Redbull.

“I‘ll sleep later,” Cas forced a laugh and shrugged.  “I have bills coming, I need to catch up and extra hours provide me with both monetary benefits and distractions.”  Automatically, Dean tensed up at his (painfully logical) reasoning, and Cas tutted, “Relax—or the sutures are more difficult to work with.”

Fuck—he didn’t want to make Cas’ life even harder, let alone rub it in his face—!  
  
Dean was fantastically failing at what he'd set out to do.

“I put a dent in your life.   _Then_ I left a giant hole,” Dean said plainly, if not hushed.  “Yeah.  Shit was unorthodox, but if I were in your shoes and found my true mate?  I don’t know what I’d do either.  It felt it.  I knew it, right away.  That’s why I never questioned it—questioned us.  Because we felt right.”

Instead of responding to Dean, you know, pouring his entire heart out—Cas kept clipping and snipping until he finished his assignment!  Was he gonna leave right after he completed what Dean invited him over for?  In some kind of revenge plot twist?!

“Well, sounds like—”

“Dean.”  He stopped him with a surety, confidence in his scent.

In fact, Cas reached out and took Dean’s hand into his and repeated a question, one that had to be important to him, because he’d asked it before.

“Should I start at the beginning?”

This time, that’s _exactly_ what Dean wanted.  He agreed, voice shaking, “Yeah, Cas.  I’d like that.”


	5. A Sucker for the Underdog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** I chose to embed NSFW art (but it's _not_ explicit or gratuitous) at the end of the text. That way, depending on your location, you can decide whether or not to scroll to the end of the page. Simple, right? :) ...trust me, you'll want to <3

“Start from the beginning.”

Those words were the key to unleashing the floodgates.  
  
Castiel didn’t waste any time, it was like he’d practiced this—or maybe he’d been holding it in too long.  
  
...Come to think of it, he'd been carefully constructing their new reality through white lies and holding back the truth from the very second they met, hadn't he?  
  
Dean couldn't imagine what it would feel like—not just carrying that weight—but now that Cas gained permission to tell _his truth,_ and having been granted it by the _one_ person he _needed_ to understand it—to hear?  Part of him was hoping they could finally make this right.  
  
“My friend, Charlie, was giving me a ride home in the snow storm.  While her vehicle isn’t much better handling the terrain than mine, it’s her confidence in driving that’s simply...astonishing.  She took the back roads, and that’s where we happened across your accident.”  
  
Remembering what brought them together still took his breath away.  Having Dean there while he flashed back to the memory helped, describing, “God, we both saw the fresh tracks spun off the road...the chaos of broken headlights and hunks of metal, smoke from the sparking engine, leaking oil and gasoline freezing once it touched the air.  Dirt, dead grass, torn up earth and the imprints left behind in the snow—it told a story, we knew it was bad.”  
  
“You lost control, the car flipped—I don’t know _how_ many times—before finally crashing like an accordion, trapping you inside.”  He was reliving the scene, his scent taking on the acrid edge of fear. “I had no idea how long you’d been out there, but I knew we needed to act fast.  We called 911 and...Charlie chastised me for arguing with them—but the fools spoke of luck, and said help would take time.  We didn't have time, and I believe you make your own luck; so I dove in the car with you."

"I did my utmost to keep you warm, covered you with anything either of us could find.  I did my best to access your injuries, to stop the bleeding.  But I didn’t know if you were going to make it.”  Cas glanced up, striving to emphasize his intentions when he confessed, “That’s why I told them I was your mate.  I _needed_  to see you fight, see you survive that day with my own eyes.  I had to find a way onto that ambulance.  Into your hospital room.  At the time, telling a lie to see someone live didn’t seem like a terrible plan.”

Sinking back in the chair and wringing his hands, Cas sighed.  “When you finally came to, the nurse blurted out I saved you—not Castiel— _your mate_ saved you.  You jumped to amnesia and I didn’t correct you.”  
  
“I should have,” he acknowledged, “I know, I should have ended the misunderstand, right there.  But some stupid part of me said you needed help.  A part of me _justified_ that you wouldn’t be able to recover alone, and I was the best candidate to help you...so I kept up the sham.”  
  
Castiel pursed his lips, weighing his options, before going ahead with his final admission.  “It wasn’t until I was signing you out that it clicked.  During an awkward, forced conversation with a nosy nurse, she pushed me towards discovering we were true mates.  No, it didn’t justify my actions—but it justified my feelings.  I understand our situation is far from okay, but know my intentions were always…” he ruefully groaned around the word, “innocent.  Truly.”

A beat of silence passed between them, Dean wondering if that was it.

Then again, what more could he ask?

“From day one: you _knew_ I’d never get my memory back.  That’s why you wanted us to get to know each other all over again.”  Dean put some of the pieces together.  “And why when I pushed, when I _threw_ myself at you, you never let us do much more than kiss.”

“How could I?” he acted offended, like the entire situation was any form or normal.  “I know—I perpetuated a lie. I need you to know it began from a place of concern and continued from desires to aid, care and soon; love—and I understand, it doesn’t make things right—”

“But it does make sense.”  Shrugging, Dean wiped a hand down his face.  “At least I know it wasn’t human trafficking.  I wasn’t a sex slave, or whatever.  But what were you gonna do?  When I healed?  When I had to go back to my life?  When I talked with _Sam and Jo_?”

He was uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, but eventually admitted, “I was going to tell you the truth.  And hope what we’ve been through, knowing we’re true mates and how much I care about you would be enough to keep us together.”  
  
“Except, you never told me we were true mates.”  
  
“Yes.  That would have been included when I told you, um, everything else.”

Dean openly gaped at him, trying to comprehend Cas’ logic because...see—Dean _didn’t get it._

If he was gonna tell him anyway, why not rip the band-aid off sooner?  It would’ve been a lot less incriminating!

Well…okay, Dean _supposed_ he wouldn’t be keen to trust him at all.  If he didn’t know Cas from any other alpha on the street, maybe he would’ve been inclined to dismiss him completely, and then they'd go their separate ways.  
  
Yeah, that sounded a lot more like him.  He’d never get the chance to know who Cas was, what he was about, because of his own distrustful instincts of alphas in general.  Although, this kind of made his point, the circumstances _were_ different...

“Where are we supposed to go from here?” Dean asked with barefaced honesty, never letting his focus on Cas waver.  
  
Even though his scrutiny may be intense, he felt kind of helpless, desperate for some footing even if it meant a heavy-handed deathgrip.  God, he prayed the alpha could give him _something_.

Cas reflected back that exact same kind of helplessness.  “I…would do anything.  Give anything if you’d forgive me.  If you’d consider allowing me back in your life—in any capacity.”

Looking him up and down, his heart aching for the alpha, Dean wondered, “Are you gonna keep killing yourself with work?”

The truth of, “I have to do it to get out of my head.  I need a distraction or else losing you would be too much,” was direct, painful and oh-so-Cas.

“Do you have work _today_?”  Dean took a chance, ventured out to ask, “Would you wanna stay?  Watch something with me?  I’m still, uh, kind of grounded.”

Look at _that_ —if he hadn’t said the magic words and made Cas flash to life like the sun.

Still, Cas tried to hide how eager he was, even when his scent didn’t lie.  “I’d like that. Very much.”

“C’mere.”  Flagging him closer, Dean wiggled into a familiar position—one where Cas’ arm was draped over his shoulder and he was leaning into the alpha’s warmth.  “That’s good.”

It came so easy and naturally, where Cas tilted his head to rest on Dean’s, like nothing ever happened.

Except…something _did_ happen.  Something huge.  But they persevered.  
  
Cas had managed to put them on a course when Dean didn’t know one was being set.

See, what they’d pretended was ‘starting from the beginning’ when it came to courting, was actual, _real-life_ courting.  Where they were, now, was a place in their relationship where Cas’ accidental hoax began.  Only this time, both of them were up to speed.  
  
No one had any form of amnesia—fake or otherwise.  The air was cleared, they were on the same page, there were no more lies, and they were together.  In a much better place.

Maybe it _could_ work.

\---------------------------

With her anxiety through the roof, Charlie had chewed down her nails until they were rough nubs.

Sure, she knew this day would come, but for some reason—she’s foolishly hoped for a fairy tale ending.  Isn’t that what true mates were all about?  
  
Charlie had been right there with them.  She’d scented it, firsthand, and what they had was undeniable!  If not _unorthodox_.  This was a wake-up call, it damned optimists and—

Okay, she was being dramatic, because when it came down to it: she was worried about her best friend.

Charlie had gone from seeing Cas, the happiest he’d ever been in his life, to devastated.  Rock bottom.  Drowning his sorrow and then drunk dialing her.  She could feel his loss as they talked and his heartache washed over her.  Jesus, the alpha didn’t even drink!

With no idea how to help, how this could possibly play out, if there was a chance at resolution—all Charlie could do was pray.  And she was not the praying type!

Of course, all of this had to happen in her off-days, so she stewed.  Nothing was enough to distract her, it was pissing her off!

She’d rotated from the TV, to her computer, she even took a walk to clear her head—only to remember she hated walking—and came back inside.  When she fell into the stupid cycle of wallowing, her phone caught her off guard with a surprising text.

 _Unknown 4:14PM  
_ _Were you an accomplice or a bystander?_

 _Charlie 4:16PM  
_ _Who is this?_

 _Unknown 4:19PM_  
_I’m Dean’s friend Jo_  
_The one who tracked him down  
We have a friend in common and I know you_

Befuddled, Charlie ogled at the screen, scanning through _every_ friggin _memory_ she had for a ‘Jo’ and came up empty.  She entered in the contact info and she tried to think harder, forcing her brain into overdrive, but it wasn’t working!

 _Charlie 4:22PM_  
_How did you get my number?  
And what are you talking about?_

 _Jo 4:24PM_  
_Cas and I had a bonding session when he was blitzed_  
_He explained a lot_  
_In great detail_  
_Way way too much detail  
Your name came up_

This chick crashing into Cas’ life should’ve been enough.  Was she some bitch who wanted to revel in the aftermath?  Of course, visiting him would only make him suffer more!  Another text came in before Charlie had time to demand why she returned to harass her friend.

 _Jo 4:25PM_  
_Good guy, horrible decision maker  
Ruby’s divorce party, night two_

Oh no.  Oh. No.  Charlie’s eyes doubled when the guest list flashed before her eyes.

After Ruby’s party, the chick had taken off to a start fresh—not that anyone could blame her.  But before Ruby’s abrupt exit, there was one gal who’d hung out in that circle now and then.  Just as Charlie had hung out with them occasionally.  The celebration-turned-farewell had brought mutual acquaintances together and if Charlie remembered correctly...

 _Charlie 4:30PM  
_ _Tequila shots and the alleyway?_

Once she pressed ‘send,’ she froze in panic.  In terror.  There was _no way_ she could—

 _Jo 4:32PM_  
_Now we’re getting somewhere!  
Small world, right?_

 _Charlie 4:34PM_  
_Ruby always called you Joanna Beth, how was I supposed to know?  
And you know Dean?!_

 _Jo 4:36PM_  
_And you need to learn how to call a girl back_  
_But that’s not the point_  
_I need to know how much you know  
If you were involved_

Charlie was about to knock her head against the wall until her brain hemorrhaged and she died.  This _wasn’t_ happening.  No way in hell!  But at the same time…what did she have to lose?  Everything was fucked anyway.

Why not tell the truth?

With a heavy sign of defeat, she showed her hand.

 _Charlie 4:40PM_  
_We were the ones to find Dean and call 911_  
_Cas basically kept him alive until the medics came and wouldn’t leave his side_  
_He told a white lie_  
_It spiraled_  
_Other peeps added to the fire, it got out of hand_ _  
Andddd he went along with it_

 _Charlie 4:45PM_  
_He asked me to investigate so I went to Dean’s house_  
_Found out he was a bachelor with no roommates_  
_I brought Cas Dean’s clothes and stuff from his place_  
_But Cas never lied about them living together_  
_Said Dean could go home whenever he wanted, especially if he was more comfortable there  
Dean chose to stay_

Her fingers flashed like lightning across the keyboard when she finished:

 _Charlie 4:57PM_  
_I fully admit I was part of the cover-up_  
_I didn’t stop it and I could’ve_  
_Hell I almost did_  
_Until I met up with Cas and Dean’s scent was already on him_  
_But I’ve never experienced anything like that in my entire life_ _  
And maybe for a second I believed in something bigger_

There was a long pause, Charlie waiting to get reamed out, but she didn’t care.  She’d take it.  Nothing done to her could hold a candle to what her friend was going through, anyway.

 _Jo 5:01PM  
_ _I get it_

Her eyebrows screwed up, squinting at the message.  She waited on edge, staring at the ‘…’ to turn into text.

 _Jo 5:05PM_  
_I know I had every right to storm in and be pissed_  
_The truth had to come out_  
_I don’t regret what I did  
But I hope there’s a way to figure it out_

 _Charlie 5:07PM_  
_Waitaminute  
You of all people are rooting for them?_

Because, yeah, that shocked the hell out of her.  But it also stirred up some hope in her chest…if there was support coming in from both sides, if each of the men were hearing it was gonna be okay—maybe it would be.

 _Jo 5:09PM  
_ _Guess who planted the idea of Dean being lazy tonight and asking Cas to remove his stitches instead of the hospital?_

 _Charlie 5:09PM  
_ _And it worked?!_

 _Jo 5:10PM  
_ _You bet your ass it did!_

A massive grin spread across her face—this was _huge_!  Just getting them in a room together was a victory!  And Jo had managed!

 _Jo 5:12PM_  
_I asked about your involvement bc I wanted someone watching Cas_  
_I’ll keep encouraging Dean_  
_But this time is critical  
Neither can second-guess things_

 _Charlie 5:14PM_  
_I couldn’t agree more_  
_And thank you_  
_For spending some time with Cas and giving him a chance  
I think they’re good for each other_

 _Jo 5:17PM  
_ _I wouldn’t have reached out if I didn’t agree_

This was the news Charlie had been yearning for, yet never imagined getting.  From a surprisingly familiar source.  It would be up to Dean and Cas to get their fairy tale, but at least they had some cheerleaders on the sidelines helping out, right?

 _Jo 5:19PM_  
_Speaking of, I’m disappointed in you  
For not reaching out at all_

Yep, she was blushing.  Charlie’s cheeks had heated up to a shade of red, and this time as she punched in the letters...she wasn’t as quick on the draw.

 _Charlie 5:22PM_  
_You wrote your number on a napkin!_  
_And then spilled a drink on the napkin!  
I called three people trying to figure out the number before giving up!_

 _Jo 5:23PM_  
_That actually makes sense_  
_Well you have it now_  
_No more excuses  
We’ll talk soon_

 _Charlie 5:25PM_  
_Absolutely_  
_Keep me updated and I’ll do the same  
And expect that phone call_

_Jo 5:27PM  
Damn right I will _

Holy flip...that just happened?!

Charlie’s night had done a complete turnaround, and instead of the staggering depression weighing her down, her stomach was rolling with a giddiness and…

Dirty thoughts.  Old slightly-cloudy memories from a wild night about ‘the one that got away.’

Huh.  How soon was ‘too soon’ to call someone?

Maybe she could get away with it sooner than she thought, under the guise of ‘friends helping friends.’  It was important to strike fast, while their metaphoric ‘iron was hot?’  She knew a blonde that was smokin’ hot...

Wow, all of this was working out surprisingly well!

Jo could plant ideas in Dean’s head and Charlie could give Cas the strength he needed to power through.  Remember he _was_  an alpha, dammit!

Yeah, using that topic as a ‘must discuss’ for Charlie to move in for the kill would _totally_  work…

\----------------------------

It was getting dark out and Dean couldn’t help noticing Cas grow restless.  He continued looking out the window, scooting around in his seat, hunching over only to sit up tall.

Dean teased him, “You okay, there?”

Cas abruptly turned towards the omega and said, “I’m sorry.  We’re supposed to be getting a little more snow between six and midnight.  It won’t stick but it’ll be a white-out.  I know you don’t want me spending the night, so I figured it’s best to get ahead of it.  I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Well, shit, the alpha assumed two different things, there—both were Dean’s feelings and maybe neither were right.  Maybe he was aching to leave...?

It looked like Cas still had one more question left.  
  
Out of everything he could’ve asked, Cas’ inquiry caught him off guard.  “What were you doing out that day in the first place?”  
  
Huh.  Maybe the alpha was still stuck, lingering back in time.  
  
Dean kind of understood—until now, the past had been a taboo.  Talking about it was freeing. Almost cathartic.  
  
Remembering his last moments before lights out...Jo yelled at him, too.  Everyone was pissed off he went out that day.

Dean laughed loudly, the reminder of him coming back to earth even more real than it was before.  “I was visiting my guys.  Ironically, I thought _they_  may freeze because of the weather…I knew if I called the ones with the shoddy housing situation, asked about it, they’d say they were fine.  Too much pride to admit when they need help, you know?”  
  
“Guess out of anyone, you could relate,” Dean flashed a smile, “I needed to see, with my own eyes, everyone had a hot meal.  A warm place to sleep through the storm.”

With furrowed brows, Cas echoed, “Your guys?”

“Yeah, oh!  Wait—” Dean slammed to a halt, mid-sentence.  
  
A light-bulb flashed on.  
  
In the midst of the amnesia cluster-fuck, he’d gotten a placebo effect when it came to day-to-day life.  He assumed Cas knew all this, but in reality, all the things ‘his mate should know’ didn’t exist.  
  
“I’m a parole officer.”  Then, the very alarming reality had him hissing, “ _Fuck_ , they probably think I’m in a ditch somewhere, like Sam and Jo did!  And I let them down, too, I can’t believe—”

“You were healing.  You couldn’t be expected to do your job when you didn’t have a car or a way to get to and from work—you need to be completely independent before going back.”  Cas’ answer was resolute, leaving no room for debate.  “I’m positive the second Joanna returned you home, she made contact.  Everything is fine, Dean.”

Dean was taken aback, in an awesome way: many awesome ways.  
  
First—he was right.  That’s exactly what Jo would’ve done, it’s the first thing that would’ve (in an ideal, non-mind-fucked-world) been on his mind.  The girl lacked tact, if he was fired, she’d be singing out the words ‘guess who needs to update his resume!’  
  
When Dean was in doubt, Cas always laid out the black and white facts for him, while providing a grounding support.  A firm explanation, coupled with a soft palm against his cheek to make damn sure he was focused.  
  
Secondly, Cas hadn’t said the hot-topic words: mentions of Dean being ‘defenseless,’ or needing to protect himself from those he worked with.

Normally, when someone heard about Dean’s job, they assumed he made the wrong career choice.  That he was putting himself in danger—when it couldn’t be further from the truth.  
  
He’d always been a sucker for the underdog.  These people were picking up the pieces, trying to do right, fighting to integrate back into society after paying a price for whatever wrong turn they’d made.  The real bad guys stayed in prison, or if the system failed: they went right back to prison.  Dean had faith in justice and people.  
  
Ironically, Dean’s own brother—a turning wheel in the justice system—hated his job, yet Cas—practically his mate—wasn’t bothered that he was a working omega one bit.  Sam’s problem was a personal bias, worried about Dean and (even though he swore up and down it wasn’t) an _omega’s abilities_ to do the job.

And there Dean went again.  Falling in love with Cas, over and over.

Dammit, this was _it_.  
  
It didn’t matter what kind of crap was in their past (real or bullshit) this was worth all the whispered affections they'd perfected, laying wrapped in each other's arms at night.  They'd worked for this, it wasn't handed to them—'amnesia' wasn't the magical quick-fix they continued to ride out. 

“I hate you, I’m pissed off, I still love you and I know that’s not changing.”

Cas dared to wonder, “Will the hate and anger change?”

Dean sniffed hard, blinking away any threatening tears, knowing he’d be alone again very, very soon, and nodded.  “Probably.”

“Then hate me.  Be as pissed off as you want.  Because I love you, I want you to sort through all those feelings, and then come back to me.”  Cas whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Liar.”  He forced a laugh and both knew it was just that—forced.  “You’ve gotta get out of here, looks like the snow’s starting.”  He gestured out to the window to beginning of the snowflakes.

Cas was filled with disappointed, in tone and scent, when he saw it.  “Ah.  You’re correct.  I suppose that’s my cue.”

“Wait, here…just—”  Dean reached over to the side table and thumbed through metal rings, eventually procuring a key.  “Lock the door on your way out.  And now you can come over anytime, _caregiver_.”

Mournfully standing up, Cas took the key and kissed Dean’s forehead.  “Thank you.  I hope to earn a slightly more affection title in the future.”

“ _Earn_ , being the key word,” he countered right back, not bothering to hide his obvious fondness.  “Drive safe, okay?  Please.”

Cas stalled, taking his time as he worked the key onto his own key ring.  “How about I text you when I arrive home?”

“You better.  ‘Cause I’m not in any mood to do a search and rescue of my mate.”  He winked in an attempt to keep the mood light.  He hated every second of Cas making his exit, slowly migrating to the door.  “Don’t even got an unsquashed car to cruise around in, looking for your ass...”

“Promise you won’t have to.  Have a good night, Dean.  I’m thankful you invited me over.”

Sure, he could’ve prolonged Cas’ departure with more small talk.  Dean could babble inane and meaningless conversation until the cows came home!  But the truth was: if Cas wasn’t staying the night, he didn’t want to put the alpha’s safety on the line because he was selfish.  
  
But God...he _wanted_ to be selfish...

Instead, he smiled and waved, something Cas did in return before disappearing before his eyes.  Hearing the click of the lock, and soon, the hum of an engine—paired with the fading of headlights—meant Dean was alone again.

He loathed it.

\--------------------------

Tonight, the clock taunted him.

Sleep had come easily to Dean once he arrived home, exhausted by an emotional hurricane—it was enough to knock anyone out.

Now?  He couldn’t get a wink.

He kept tossing and turning, glancing at the time, only realizing that _none_  had gone by.  Goddammit, he wanted to chuck the damn clock across the room, busting it into a million pieces!

All his thoughts roamed back to him and Cas together on the couch.  How relaxed he was, for the first time in days.  How his scent calmed Dean and ran a soothing reassurance through his veins, down to his very core.  For it to be gone?

He didn’t just miss it.

Dean needed it.

Out of all his distress, physical and emotional, the _one thing_ that pained him the most was missing the scent of his alpha.  His lungs hurt, not able to breathe him in—whether it was beside him, or the ambiance of his home, where Cas’ scent had soaked into the walls and Dean was warm and happy, just existing in a place where—  
  
Okay, he missed _everything_ about Cas.

Thinking back to their last conversation, checking the goddamn numbers once more, and looking out his window: he realized something.

The small storm has long since blown past them.

Frustrated, melancholy and having no more fucks to give—Dean’s hand shot out and slapped onto his nightstand.

After a few grapples, he managed to locate his phone.  It was new, Sam picked it out and he _hated_ it, getting used to new technology had never been one of his talents!  Thankfully, the one thing he used this stupid-skinny brick (seriously, why did he need a phone as big as his face?!) for was easy enough.  
  
Squinting at the bright screen, he pulled up a text message and sent it out before he had any second thoughts.

His chances were probably slim to none anyway, but at least he tried.

\------------------------------

No way.  There was _no way,_ he _had_ to be imagining it.

Dean’s house was built different, his bedroom was upstairs—so the distance obscured the sharpness of his ears.  Sure, he could’ve slept on the couch tonight, it would’ve been easier.  Except, in the pursuit of curing his insomnia, his bed sounded better.  
  
Plus, everything weighing him down manifested in defiance, frustrations with life.  Why not take on stairs?  What’s the worst that could happen?  He was already miserable!

Dean was _not_ miserable right now—unsure if the soft, faraway noise was real or just a dream.

His eyes darted over, seeing it was just before 4am, and he figured he had to be delirious.  Until the very last second, and his nose—

“Hello, Dean.”

Trying not to gape, Dean instead asked in fascination, “—You were up?”

Cas lingered in the doorway and nodded.  “I find it difficult to sleep these nights.”

“Heh, me too.  Obviously.”

The text he’d rashly, impulsively sent read: _‘Can’t sleep without you, come back tonight’_

It was clear by his timing Cas was just as willing.  He’d undoubtedly read it, donned a coat and shoes, then jumped in his car.

“I’m…unsure where to go from here.”  Cas hadn’t moved yet, and yeah—he totally understood the confusion—  
  
Dean _had_ spontaneously invited him over, and hadn’t said much aside from a greeting.  And a show of shock.  But he was shocked, okay?!   _Damn_ , he was a catch, huh?  Jesus, get with it, Winchester!  
  
Cas cautiously asked, “You meant it, right?”

“I get questioning a drunk dial, but I’ve never ‘accidentally’ sleep-texted anyone.  Get your ass over here, now.”  Dean's chuckle was bright before deliberately lowering his voice, ordering, “Oh and lose the clothes.”

Finally, Cas entered the room and did just that under the cover of darkness in the room.

Dean could see movement in the shadows, he could hear the shuffling and tell-tale drop of fabric.  Anticipation bubbled up in his stomach.  He got lucky, he couldn’t believe it worked!  What had started out as a half-assed idea, turned into Cas’ thrilling follow-through.

When Dean pulled back his covers for the alpha to join him, the way Cas propelled forward kept up the surprises.

Where he’d fully expected Cas to lay down by his side—he was met with the alpha’s lips.

 _Holy fuck_ , had he _missed this—_

It had only been a handful of days, but as they both grabbed at one another, it felt like they’d been separated for years.

What Cas had tested out as a sweet reunion kiss, turned heated—the alpha decidedly taking charge and sliding them horizontally on the bed.  He wasn’t on top of Dean—per se—but he sure wasn’t able to do much wriggling on his own.  
  
For some reason, being pinned down?  With nothing but miles of pure alpha muscle pressed against him?  Dean found it _so_ fuckin’ _hot_.

Until this moment, _Dean_  pressed boundaries, only for Cas to stop him.

Now, Cas was urging them forward.  He was testing the water, pausing just long enough to be sure Dean had no objections, then taking it another step further.  Both knew _this_ (something more physical) wasn’t the intent of the text, but they couldn’t help it.  
  
Once their hands began roaming, they couldn’t keep them to themselves—  
  
Maybe the hiatus, the fight and withdrawal of being together at night, it lit a fuse—one that sparked once they reunited?

A caressing touch began along Dean’s sides, it turned into Cas clutching and digging for his hips.  Dean choked out the words, “Oh _God—_ you’re _not_ holding back, are you?” in absolute glee.

Cas’ hum vibrated against his throat, sending a quake through the omega’s entire body when he chuckled.  “You can stop me, you know.  Whenever you want.”

Was that really a question?  Hell no, he didn’t want any of this to stop!

The pressure of Cas’ mouth against Dean’s neck, and his teeth brushing an indiscriminate, rough and goddamn _tempting_  sensation sent the blood rushing to his cock.  Nipping at his earlobe, sucking against his skin _right_ where a claim would go— _holy fuck_ , Dean bared his neck like he was built for it.

Well…when he thought about it, he _was_.

At first, he’d agreed without hesitation: he _was_ Cas’ omega.  The second time, he was awestruck—quickly becoming petulant, but recognized it, anyway.

Clinging to Cas, unthinkingly clutching to pull him closer, was proof.

During the process of (attempting and failing) to seal their bodies, Dean finally— _finally_!—caught the barest glimpse of something he’d been searching for.  Between Cas’ bedside manner and their single almost-too-far romp, the alpha had seen every inch of Dean.  He couldn’t say the same about his alpha.  
  
Tonight, the overwhelming magnetism surrounding their bond allowed Cas to be bold, shamelessly indulging himself, grinding against Dean’s thigh and kissing him _stupid_.

It was barely a hit-and-run collision as they continued to pull closer—Cas had to be driving him insane on purpose!—but _goddamn_  did it make Dean’s mouth water—

Without pressing weight on his ribs, Cas spread his hands across Dean’s chest, licking a deep, feverous kiss into his mouth.  His thumbs circled, until Dean’s nipples were hard—until he was quaking under the sensation—and he couldn’t control the racing, panting whines.

Soon, Cas replaced his hands with that talented mouth.  Dean swore he felt every beat, even the batting of Cas’ eyelashes, as he mercilessly flicked his tongue, temptingly and spreading kisses across his torso—heart jumping, moving down.

With his jaw dropped open, Dean fought like hell to keep his spine straight, his hips down, while all he wanted was friction.  Holy hell, Cas was almost _right there_ , getting closer by the second!  Literally, the one thing to potentially ruin his _entire_ goddamn _world_ , would be Dean hurting himself, and only because that would stop Cas—  
  
Although, if he tearing something would deny him Cas' mouth, Dean would totally play through the pain and pretend it never happened, praying Cas was none the wiser, he needed his alpha sucking him down  _that badly_ —  
  
Dear Lord, he’d do anything and everything Cas wanted of him—but his control was slowly fraying with each and every rough bite, filthy lap and flick traced out with his tongue.  Dean had been dreaming about this for so long, his alpha wasn't shy about mapping out where he'd been, leaving small reminders all over Dean's skin, making him want to explode!

“ _Motherfuck—_ ” Dean spat out the curse, a fist balled up and punching the bed next to him.  “You’ve been holding out on me!  Slowly driving me crazy, waiting for me to snap...”

While his hands still wandered, Cas made sure to meet Dean’s eyes when he said, “Not holding out.  Waiting.  You know that.”  When he returned his attention to Dean’s hip bones (attention?  More like sexy- _assault holyfuckingshit_ ), the omega was reeling.

So Dean played the game.  'Cause if you didn’t play, there was no way to win.  
  
...Even though playing innocent was damn near _impossible_ with the alpha inches away from his neglected cock.  
  
“And what were you waiting for, Cas?”  He couldn't stop grinning.  After seeing this side of his true mate come alive—he knew exactly how to tip him off.  “What are your plans for me,  _alpha?_  How do you want me?”

Cas all but jolted up to face Dean’s mischief head-on, still hovering above his _painfully_ hard erection.  But his response was gratifying in it’s own way.  The lust and thrill fogging the room, being able to stir and awaken that predator innately etched in Cas’ DNA, rattling him to the surface—

 _ChristAlmighty_ , the way his alpha was staring him down...it was something Dean could get used to.  Something he’d _never_ forget.

“My plans?” he repeated back.  “Those are endless.”  Cas’ hands landed on either side of Dean’s head to brace himself, floating just out of reach.  “I know countless ways to make love to you, how to manipulate and move your body so you feel nothing but pleasure.  I’m waiting for permission—to make the fantasy real.”

“Holy fuckin’ shit, permission granted—” Dean’s mouth went blabbering without him.  “Or something…else.  Something that sounds way sexier.”

He was able to keep his cool until now!  But how could Dean have expected _that_?

What was worse, was Cas pausing.  Kissing his forehead.  Like he _hadn't_ sent pure fire and desire igniting every inch of his skin!  Like his boxers weren’t matted to his ass from a fucking waterfall of slick, screaming _‘take me!_ ’  
  
Because _that’s_ what Dean wanted, hell yes, take him, right friggin here, no more waiting!  He was whimpering, dripping from anticipation and ready, he—

Instead, Cas dialed it back a notch.  Returning to Dean’s lips, hands carding through his hair, tugging—bringing everything back around to what they had, _before_.

And it wasn’t like Dean _hated_ what they had before, except: he was amped up, needy and ready for the next level!  He had no idea what was going on in Cas’ head!

Until he brushed their cheeks together, “I got ahead of myself.  Missing you, getting lost in you,” his voice dropping back to a whisper.  “I love you.  That’s why I’m here.  Not because we can finally…” he sighed and shook his head.

“Hey, I know—and I get it, okay?”  Dean cupped the side of Cas’ face, thumb brushing his cheekbone.  He used this small cut-out in their hot and heavy reunion to say, “After everything that’s happened: why would I let you peer-pressure me into booty call if I’m furious with you?”

Dean smiled and stage-whispered, “Hint: it’s ‘cause I’m _not_ furious with you,” before drawing him in.  “The show’s over, there’s no roles to play and no reasons to pretend anymore.  We’re just...us, Cas.”

He took a deep breath while Cas held his.

“Two people who know what life is like with _and_ without the other.  Two dumbasses who know enough to realize there’s only one good way to live, right?”  The words, “Cas, we’re two true mates who found each other.  I’m not doing this without you anymore, I love you,” weren’t just easy, they were strong; a declaration and a weight off Dean’s chest.

Cas looked upon him in awe.  “You have no idea how happy I am to hear those words,” he dipped forward to steal a deep inhale of Dean’s scent, “The idea I’d destroyed us felt real.  Losing you would’ve ruined me.”

“Yet, here I am.”  His impish grin manifested naturally.  “Giving you permission—to move, manipulate, and please me, in all the ways you’ve imagined before.”  The omega grabbed Cas’ rear, pulling them back together.  “Does that sound sexier than my first try?”

The flash of disbelief was brief, before stronger (much _better)_  instincts kicked in.  “Now that I know you can’t live without me, I doubt much would dissuade me.”

While Dean preened, Cas executed a task he now handled gracefully, with practiced ease.

Undressing Dean completely.

Tonight, it wasn’t a job, this time was different.  Instead of being met with a fresh set of clothes, Dean was covered by the sizzling press of Cas’ skin.

 _Hell yes_ , his finally, equally naked skin—

With no idea what his alpha had in mind, Dean took action in the few ways he could.  His cock ached for friction, just as agonizingly as his ass demanded a knot—but there was only one thirst Dean felt confident he could quench.

He did just that—hooking his good leg around Cas’ and grabbing him—sending the alpha toppling over, Dean pulling them together.

For the first time, Dean was able to unabashedly rut against Cas’ thigh, the relief _stunning._   But that wasn’t even the best part.  He could finally feel the weight of his alpha’s cock against his belly; his thick shaft smearing precum more than enough to drive him crazy.

Dean’s thoughts turned obscene and ran wild.

All it would take was a shift to the side and they’d be slotted together.  At this point, Dean would sell his soul for the bare minimal spit-slick hand, jerking them off together, he'd be on cloud nine!

The omega in him—the true mate that demanded connection with his alpha—was greedy for more.  See, Cas didn’t need to put in much effort to make it happen, either: which was the bitch of it all.  He had a primed and prepared omega, about to vibrate out of his skin from desire alone, leaking slick from the _idea_ of being filled with his dick.  
  
If Dean was a little more mobile?  He’d throw Cas down and ride him into next week!  In another couple months, he better watch his back—this fuckery would come back to get him—

Teeth leaving marks against the surface of his skin only drove Dean closer to the edge, he pleaded, “Cas, now’s the time to prove it.”  He pushed on even further, “Show me how much you want me, use your body to say you love me—”

“I plan to, we‘re just beginning.”

He babbled, hips rutting up without him, “N-nah, let’s skip ahead, shall we?”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath when Cas’ hand seized his cock, and while he savored the sensation—even basked in it—he had other plans.  It _hurt_ to pull Cas away, but Dean wasn’t stopping him: Dean was _leading_ him.  To something better, hopefully more...inspirational.

He pried his alpha’s hand away from his dick ( _why did he hate himself so much?_!) and tugged, wrenching until the tension in Cas’ muscle slackened.  And Dean guided him back between his legs.

The second Cas felt slick, Dean’s job was done.

His clever fingers dragged around Dean’s hole, teasing him, exploring to discover the extent of the mess.  What he found took his breath away.  “You-you’ve made your point,” he acknowledged, unable to control himself, experimenting with the press of fingers inside.  “ _Fuck_ , Dean, I—”

The omega choked down a shout, reeling from the pleasure of Cas’ plunging touch.  “Please, let us have this.  Where’s my fearless alpha who stormed the castle when I invited him to bed?”

Dean didn’t have to provoke him further, Cas was already in the middle of arranging them both.

He hiked Dean’s leg up over his shoulder, tucking his knee under Dean’s rear.  Yep, he was lifted up with _plenty_ of height to be displayed outright—luckily, Dean had checked his modesty at the door, he didn’t care what was happening anymore, so long as it _happened._  Cas’ grip against his opposite hip pressed him into the bed— _just so—_ working some wild yoga-voodoo, immobilizing the break completely.

Dean’s heart raced with every passing moment—watching Cas move back in to gain leverage, crossing his body—and Dean was a happy camper: because his lips happened to land right in the middle.

The alpha’s touch ghosting against Dean’s shoulder served as a reminder: to relax, to isolate the sway to his ribs, to let Cas handle this.

Cas kissed him like there was no tomorrow, when he felt a sudden pressure that made his toes curl—the thickness of Cas’ cock against his hole.  Oh God, he couldn't help it—he began rolling his hips.  
  
Except, Cas kept using long drags to fuck _between_ Dean’s dripping wet cheeks, instead of _inside_ him!  Hackles rose, Dean would lock up, relax, and do it over again—because his true mate was driving him _crazy_!  

Expressing himself through a sharp bite to Cas’ lip had earned a chuckle in return.  Cas purred out, “You feel amazing, I want it to last forever,” and he’d managed to do the impossible—  
  
Catching Dean off guard.  Putting his money where his mouth was.

As Cas plunged inside Dean’s wanting, desperate body, he fought against his own amazement to make damn sure the omega wasn’t straining.  That it wasn’t going to hurt him.

Fucking _Lord_ , when Dean’s body swallowed down his mate’s cock like he was made for this?  He’d _gladly_ tell Cas nothing could touch him, let alone hurt.  No way in hell, he was on top of the world!

“H-holy shit,” Dean stammered out, tossing his head back.  “Glad we waited.  Not even amnesia could make me forget _this_.”

The sudden lack of an answer was concerning, as was the lack of movement—Dean being the one to writhe against his cock.  Although, he’d gladly continue, _positive_ he could get off like this—

“Cas?” he whined and attempted to meet his eyes.

Oh, _hello,_ gorgeous _._

The energy pouring from his stance, Cas’ heated expression and soon; this scent—the alpha in his mate had taken over.

His nostrils flared, eyeing every inch of Dean before a gruff, “I-I won’t be able to stop.  I can’t explain it, I need you and _us_ to—”

“Then don’t stop.”  It wasn’t an order, nor a taunting jab.  It was understanding, laced with the same urgency the omega felt, through him.  “Don’t stop until I’m filled with your cum, and—”

Dean thought he _may_  have heard a faraway ‘thank you,’ but there was no way of telling when Cas began slamming into him, blood rushing and clouding his ears.  There was no doubt he added to the noise, shouting and begging—both of them finally letting go.

At one time, he wished he could’ve been proactive.  He wanted to give back all the pleasure Cas was giving him, but when their worlds met, the ‘who’ didn’t matter.  It was only them, working as one.  Becoming one.  Rocking, colliding, making love in a frenzied haze of desire they both needed more than they knew.

Until now.

Dean grabbed at where he could and held on for the ride.

Even if his ribs got knocked around, the adrenaline and intoxicating scents drowned and numbed every other sensation out—everything revolved around Cas.  His true mate plunging in and out, filling him and fucking him deeper than his body could understand.

Both the alpha’s cock and mouth were electrifying, sending a rush of need, a rush of frenzy through Dean that only amplified when he felt the bump of his knot.  The tug against Dean’s rim launched visceral and carnal temptation as gratifying as the friction against his hole, stretching him wider by the second, but he could scent a hint of apprehension in his alpha.

Like he had the flashing thought of retreating.

That _wasn’t_ happening—

Dean growled.  It was something strikingly low, feral and unfamiliar when he ordered, “You’re gonna fuckin’ fill me, _by_  knotting me.  Don’t you dare stop,” and sucked down on Cas’ neck hard enough to leave a bruising mark.

A shuddering groan prefaced an attack of Cas’ own, nipping Dean’s lip hard enough to jolt him—Dean’s challenge adding motivation and pushing his alpha harder.

Each and every pump of his hips, the long strokes turned shallower, his knot grew thicker.

Trying to hold on, knowing damn well Cas was about to burst.

Dean failed in the most spectacular way.  He sure didn’t care about losing if it meant mind-blowing pleasure, feeling Cas’ knot thickening inside him, while the scent and feel of mate rushed over and through his body.

He could feel obsessive lips hungrily spreading over his skin, cum spilling and stretching him, hot hands skating over him, spreading his own release and slick—

And words.  They weren’t clear.  Not at first.  But eventually the fog cleared and Cas’ voice was whispering against his neck.  “…almost impossible.”

Slowly, Dean’s brow scrunched together, knowing he’d missed something.  “What…?”

“You made it almost impossible.”  Cas chuckled, having managed to roll them to where they were relaxing against each other.

And, hot damn, having Cas knotted inside him.  It felt out of this world.  Even when he had no idea _what_ his alpha was talking about.

He must have made a noise showing his obvious confusion, the alpha tutting him, “Next time, don’t beg me to mate you.  It’s unfair.”

Oh.   _That_ explained things.

Dean grinned.  Even though that had been his subconscious: he wasn’t surprised.  “Next time, don’t make yourself so damn mate-able.”

“I’ll admit, you gave it a good effort.”  He could see the alpha’s hand move towards his own neck, and Dean remembered the unyielding desire to mark him.

He reached out to follow after Cas’ hand, discovering the swollen shape of his teeth that would be black and blue tomorrow.  With a _‘huh_ ,’ Dean stated, “I regret nothing,” and leaned forward, kissing Cas’ chest.  “Do you?  Regret coming here tonight?”

Wait, why did he ask that?  Did he even want to risk the outcome of the alpha saying ‘yes,’ no matter how slim the odds?  Maybe he really wanted an affirmation.  That, for Cas: there was no second-guessing, when Dean assumed the ball was always in _his_  court.

“I regret many decisions I’ve made,” he acknowledged, going on to explain, “But I’d never take back any of the time I’ve spent with you.  Whether it came from a bad idea or not.”

A long pause hung in the air, but Dean…understood.

“Yeah.  You’re right.  When you put it like that, I wouldn’t take back our time either.”  He sunk against the alpha, and even though dawn was beginning to rise and the colors of the sun started reaching out towards the windows, Dean’s peace _finally_ came.  “I think I can sleep now.”

“Do you still want me to—”

“Shut up.  That’s why I asked you here in the first place.”  Dean snickered, knowing what stupid shit Cas was going to say before he said it, closing his eyes.  “Unless you’ve got other places to be, you know, _after_ your knot—”

This time, Cas stopped him with a resolute, “No.  This is it.”

“Mm, that’s what I hoped.  Good night, babe.  Morning.  Whatever…” Dean was already half-asleep, his mate’s scents like a lullaby.

The beautiful, “Sleep well, Dean,” were the words that had been missing the last few days.

He knew it: the illogical feelings and situation paled in comparison to the logic of needing Cas.  That was clear-cut, a simple truth.  
  
The process didn’t matter, it was the resolution—who was Dean to question the results?  All that mattered was what made them, yes— _them_ , happy.  That answer, was being together.  By any means, intentions, or white lies necessary.  Cas had done just that to make it happen, even when he knew it would hurt, that he could be hated for it.  
  
Huh, now that Dean thought about it—he always was a sucker for the underdog, wasn't he?  Of course, he'd end up loving this alpha who'd do anything to love him.  
  



	6. Bad Habits

Seven weeks was a long time to wait, to navigate with crutches, to belligerently fly around on a damn scooter designed for leg breaks—only to have Cas put the kibosh on that, returning it day one.  Apparently, Dean wasn’t ‘responsible enough’ to handle it, the new (friggin _awesome_ while it lasted) means of travel privileges revoked.  
  
Cas usually knew best.   Dean admitted it _was_ an accident waiting to happen.

He knew that because three weeks was enough time to fall in love.  To have a blowout fight and recover.

Five weeks was plenty to cement a relationship, to work out the kinks, to begin integrating their lives—this time, for real.

At six weeks, they couldn’t wait anymore to be mated.

Dean insisted he _was_ back in fighting shape, telling his alpha to ignore the clunky fashion statement hanging from his leg, that it was an annoyance, not a hindrance.  And in Cas’ professional opinion—he agreed.

On anyone else’s timeline...maybe six weeks sounded rushed.  Impulsive, even crazy.

Except, upon meeting Cas, Dean was under the assumption they had _years_  under their belt.  He hadn’t taken the information lightly, he’d _felt_ those years between them, too.  
  
During those six weeks, they’d laughed-cried-loved at hyper-speed, experiencing emotional high-stakes, turnaround and results just as frenzied.  By living on top of each other through it all—both by circumstance and then, choice—they gained what most couples couldn’t achieve in a lifetime.

They’d been tested and proved themselves bullet-proof.  In their minds, they were already mates.

The fact it _wasn’t real_ had itched at Dean from the beginning!  There was only one way to fix it, wasn’t there?

After begging, hounding and breaking down Cas’ barriers (it honestly didn’t take much) he was in agreement.

And when they mated, it felt right.  This intangible distance between them vanished, and—dear God—was it amazing.

The most ironic part?  No one else noticed.

Both Dean and Cas were waiting for it.  Just waiting to be chastised for moving too fast—Jo saying they weren’t ‘thinking with their upstairs brain’ or Charlie’s explosive reaction, calling them ‘officially bat-shit crazy’ before a well-landed punch to Cas’ shoulder.  
  
They were braced for their friends to question their choice, but, shockingly, no one's nose picked up much change.  At all.

Instead of an uproar, there was an occasional, off-hand comment, like, “I’m glad you two are doing so well!” when Jo visited.  Or Charlie noting coolly, instead, “It’s nice to see you back together,” but _never_ the words, “I can’t believe you did it!”

The pair laughed about it in secret—reactions serving as proof once again, it _was_ meant to be.

With their routines established, going back to the real world wasn’t as scary and tentative as it had been a few weeks ago.  Both knew they’d be coming home to each other, instead of dreading the uncertainty that was reality, leaving their little ‘bubble,’ their safe haven, before getting the chance to fix everything.

When Cas returned to his normal work hours, officially mated to the omega of his dreams, his days flew by like they used to.  He wasn’t gobbling up every extra shift someone could spare to distract his broken heart.  Not needing to work himself to the bone left everything to fall into place.  Well, a _better_ place.

Maybe that’s why he was caught off guard when his coworker tugged him behind the nurses station with shit-eating grin on her face.

“You have a _patient_  to see you.”  Anna’s smirk only grew wider when she commented, “Took long enough.”

Cas peered up, sight and smell unveiling exactly _who_ she was being sneaky about at the same time.  “Dean?  What are you doing here?”

“Hey, babe!  Today’s the day I say adios to this cast!”  He made a sweeping gesture—or as much as he could manage with his crutches.  “This _is_  a hospital, right?  You do those things, don’t ya?”

Oh.   _Oh_!  
  
Cas had no idea why he hadn’t thought of it earlier!  He’d just assumed Dean would go back to the original facility to follow-up.  He had no idea his omega would show up here!  Dean had deliberately failed to mention his plan for this very reason—surprising Cas at work.

Anna whispered in his ear, “I thought there was a reason you’d been hiding your omega from us.  Like the accident had messed up his face.  Or he was a dick.  Or maybe something about him was _defective_.”  She hummed her appreciation, just low enough so Dean couldn’t hear it.  “Nope.  Once that cast’s off, he’s in mint condition.  You just didn’t want the rest of us to be all over him—”

“That’s enough, Anna.”  He rolled his eyes, taking a cursory note of the surrounding rooms status and waving Dean forward.  With a quick glance to his coworker, he decided to introduce them.  “Anna, this is my mate, Dean.  Dean, this is Anna—she finds you appealing and has developed a crush on you.”

“Hey!” Anna whacked him with a clipboard, while Dean laughed aloud and winked, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Now close enough to kiss his forehead, Cas groaned, “Always a flirt,” then turned back to the blushing woman, “Should we page Doctor Moore?”

She shook her head.  “Nah, you know she’ll tell you to go on ahead.  Get him settled and I’ll grab the stuff.”

The pair exchanged a nod, Dean’s smile turning gleeful.  “Freedom is mine!”

“So long as you’re not a brat about the saw.”  Cas warned him with a foreboding timbre, “We don’t want your ‘freedom’ resulting in an amputation.”

The omega’s focus whipped back towards Anna, “You, uh, _sure_ we shouldn’t page the doctor?”

Her head rocked back when she cackled, the menacing tone doing nothing to ease Dean’s nerves.  “Novak’s given free rein around here, your life’s in his hands.  I’d behave, if I were you,” Anna wagged a finger before disappearing from view.

Thankfully, being ushered into the room gave an amount of privacy that turned up Dean’s warmth, his brightness—creating his own special, private kind of moment towards Cas, “This isn’t the first time my life’s been in your hands, huh?”

“Try not to make it a habit.  You don’t want to lose me to a heart-attack, do you?”

“Nah.  I’ll give it my best.”  Dean plopped down, right as Anna came back with the machinery.  His eyes doubled at the sharp edges. “ _Hell no_.  Why don’t I remember this part from last time I broke something?!”

After handing off the saw, she plugged the cord into the wall.  Anna found her spot to enjoy the show, leaning in the door frame, her arms crossed in nonchalance.  “Will he scream?  Can I watch?”  
  
By that point, Cas had counted multiple co-workers having peaked in—no doubt Anna had spread the word his mate was here.  All of which were undeniably given tid-bits of knowledge about...how did she put it?  Dean being in ‘mint condition?’  
  
His colleagues were paying their respects—Cas had to muffle his smile from a few wolf-whistles.

“You people here are _sick_!  I’m going back to the other joint!” the omega complained loudly, unable to focus between the instrument, those poking their heads in (he proudly waved) and the impish smile, growing on Cas’ face when he flipped the ‘on’ switch.

He couldn’t help but laugh and cluck his tongue, Dean was making quite the first impression.

\----------------------

After the deafening whirl of the saw had finally stopped ringing in Dean’s ears, and the bandages had been cut away, Anna assisted Cas in disposing of the material and gave them some privacy.

He’d taken that second to kiss him, before stepping out for a moment—per protocol—letting Dean put his pants back on.  While hilarious, Dean was thrilled to rip off the gown.

Yeah, maybe he spent some of the time glaring at his leg.

Dean _wanted_ to bitch and complain, because in the seven weeks it’d been laid up…he felt like all the muscle had completely atrophied.  Gross.  The second Cas left him, the second he was able: Dean whipped on his jean to cover it up.  He didn’t want to see it.  At all.

Good.  It was healed, and...whatever!  But it felt nasty.  And dry and irritated.  No matter how great he felt getting the damn thing off, Dean didn’t want his weirdo limb under any observation—whether his alpha a nurse or not.

Ignoring that part, he _was_  stoked he’d surprised Cas with his visit.

Dean’s masterplan to catch him off guard had totally worked!  He’d been able to catch an unedited glimpse into his life.

In the process, he’d also (unintentionally) given all Cas’ friends a glance at _theirs_.  But it was cool (he hoped, at least) because it looked like the unit was a family.

Having a good environment to come into each day was invaluable…although, Dean had forgotten until halfway through the process, this ’family unit’ had _also_ been witnesses to Cas going through their small break-up.  All his back-to-back shifts, when things fell apart.  
  
When Cas was at his weakest, because of Dean (whether he meant to, or not) these people stopping by the room to laugh at them were the same ones who’d been there for his alpha when _Dean_ caused him pain.

Being back together, moving on, it _had_ to make all the difference, right?  Dean was off their shit-list...right?

He tried not to snort at the knock on the door, and dutiful, “Are you decent?” before Cas reentered.

“Decent?” Dean rolled his eyes, “Never.  Not around you.”

He didn’t mind when his alpha shut the door behind him—nope, not one bit.  “How does it feel?”

“Like I need a shower,” he admitted, but it didn’t stop him from scooting closer when Cas sat in the chair next to him.  “But, unfortunately, it’ll have to wait.  I need to get back to work.  Not enough time to grab something to eat _and_ stop home.”

These days, ‘home’ was relative.  They migrated between both their houses, each interchangeable.

“I understand.  When you do get around to it, you’ll want to soak it.  I recommend a bath.  Make sure you go easy today, keep your crutches close.”  Cas leaned in and, dammit, it was too tempting not to kiss him.

So that’s exactly what he did.

“Mm-hm—” Dean purred against his lips, “I’ll do whatever you say.”

“It’s dangerous to put that offer on the table,” Cas reminded him, “I can be very creative.”

He was eager to confirm in-between kisses, “So, so dangerous…” but then abruptly drew away.  “Hey…this is weird.  The timing and all‘s out of the blue, but there’s something I’ve always wondered.”

With the assurance of, “I’m an open book,” the alpha waited.

“Even when I was still beat up, you didn’t have a problem with me going back to work,” Dean led in, seeing if the prompt would gain any steam.

There was evidence of confusion when Cas returned, “People work with broken bones all the time.  There was no reason to be worried about you returning.  Besides, it’s a boost for morale, the benefits outweigh any—”

“No, not like that.  An injured omega.  Being a parole officer.  From day one, you were always so cool about my job.  My own family, my friends, they didn’t want me to even _apply_ for it.”  Dean supposed he needed to get downright literal.  “You’re my mate. My _alpha_.  Why do I get the feeling there’s a reason?”

With a softness, Cas offered, “I can’t simply be open minded and nonjudgmental?”

“I mean, ya can.  But I know you.  Like, really know you—not fake-amnesia-know-you.  There’s more, here.  Tell me about it?” Dean had to get to the bottom of this.

He knew he’d struck gold when Cas got up and moved to tug the string of the picture window, gently closing the blinds.

Yeah, this was something.  He'd struck gold!

Dean was ready, full of anticipation and more than anything, he wanted to take advantage of the privacy.  And maybe while doing so…show some _support_.

He did just that when Cas sat back down.  By depositing himself in his mate’s lap.

Earning a grin and a kiss, Cas first and foremost prefaced, “No one’s in a place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do.  I’d never make a choice for you.  It’s not your family or friend’s place to tell you, as an omega, what your limits are.  Not even your mate can make your choices.  And regarding your job, specifically?”  He sighed, finally agreeing _out loud_ with Dean, “Perhaps, I…have more hands-on experience about second chances than most.”

“Okay,” he coaxed slowly, repeating the curious words, “Tell me about it.”

Cas, in no uncertain terms, got right to the point.  “I had a friend who’d gotten in trouble.  He had a drug habit and became desperate.  I tried to get him help, but one thing led to another, and I wound up in jail.”

Dean _couldn’t help it_.  
  
He was viscerally taken aback, his laughter brought about by disbelief.  “That happens to you a lot, doesn’t it? The whole ‘one thing led to another.’”  He scooted them closer together, and emphasized, “I wanna know.  All the gory details.  It’s not gonna change us, you know that.  Tell me what happened, sweetheart.”

Come to think of it—there _was_ a hint of irony there, wasn’t there?

The alpha took in a deep breath, glancing over to the shut door, the drawn blinds, and looped his arms around Dean’s waist.  His thumbs absently stroked circles against Dean’s back.  The same way that Dean had his draped around Cas’ shoulders—fingertips naturally playing with the wild tufts of hair at the base of his head.  
  
They were coexisting, comfortable, and hopefully, Cas felt the same.

“My friend; he’d been a fool.  Stoned out of his mind, wandering in a parking lot.  He got lucky enough to come across a luxury car with a spare key locked in the wheel well.  Obviously—he took it.  Thought he could make some fast money, scraping it.”  Cas hadn’t told this story to many people.  He hadn’t said the words in a long, long time.

It was a stain in his life, for more than one reason.  
  
But if he could tell it to anyone?  It’d be Dean.

“He wanted to brag to me about it.  His mistake was showing up at my apartment to flaunt it _before_ heading to the salvage yard.  I was furious.”  The alpha cleared his throat, his grip on Dean’s waist tightening.  “We got into a huge fight.  Shouting turned into a brawl and I won—not that it was much of a fight, he was so messed up.  But he did divulge it’d been less than an hour since he’d scored it.  When I demanded he took it back, he refused.  So I decided to take it back.”

“Oh no…” Dean already knew where his was going, his gut sinking.

“It gets better,“ Cas ruefully added, “During our fight, he’d thrown the keys into the creek that ran by my apartment.  All I knew, was I needed to return that car.  I had a chance to fix this: but my window was closing.”  
  
His pacing picked up, both feeling a shot of that long-forgotten urgency, Cas recalling, “It was locked, his prints were everywhere inside.  Maybe—just maybe—if we returned it, the guy wouldn’t press charges.  Hell, if I was quick enough, he may not even know it was missing.  Remember—my friend found the extra key, the owner had his own set.”

For just a moment, a grin curled on Dean’s features when he impishly asked, “Did you do what I _think_ you did?”

Cas’ raised eyebrow was shameless, quipping back, “If you think I jimmied open the lock and hot-wired it, then—yes.”

“Did you have a rough childhood?” Dean teased him outright, tilting his head with a feigned pout.  “Is that why you’re a jack of all trades?”

Finally, Cas found he could laugh, shaking his head to admit, “I’ve had many questionable friends who’ve given me a…colorful life and many talents.”

“I _will_ ask you about those another time.  Count on it.”  Dean planted a quick kiss on Cas’ nose before he had to bring down the mood again, truly wondering, “Where did it all go wrong?”

Cas’ two words, “GPS tracker,” pulled all the pieces together.  “By the time I was on my way back, the cops were already on my trail.  Pulled me over a mile away from where it was taken.  And…it looked so much worse.  While my friend was driving with keys, I‘d actually broken into it.”

“But still!  They could’ve gone back for your friend, confirmed your story by a quick look in the creek and—”

“He had so many strikes against him.  And I know you might believe in the system, Dean, how people do change, but so many parts of it are broken.  It was pointless, anyway.   _I_ took the fall and _he…_ ” Cas ground his teeth, pushing out the words, “He needed much more help than I originally thought.”

Another wave of alarm washed over Dean—because Cas’ scent was tinged with bitter anger, this deep-seated resentment had etched into his marrow.  And after all they’d been through, Cas was still fighting to protect Dean _from it_.    
  
Dammit, the omega wished his mate would let him in!

The thought manifested into Dean physically digging his hands into the meat of Cas’ shoulders, shaking him.  Trying to pull him out of his head! “Please, we’ve already been through the ringer.  You don’t gotta shield me from anything.  Good, bad, ugly, I’m yours.  If you’re pissed, be pissed!  From what I’ve heard already, you’ve got every right.”

Winning Cas’ focus worked best when Dean changed tactics, cuffing his chin, forcing his gaze.  “C'mon, sweetheart. You’ve seen me at my weakest—something I’d rather die than show to anyone.  But you.  Trust me enough to return the favor.”

That worked.  Up close and personal, Dean could see his words sparked an understanding in Cas.  Just a little more...

“So you took the fall.“  Dean continued to coax his alpha, “What did he do?” knowing this was that key.

The omega’s lead helped Cas gain his footing.  “I knew it didn’t look good.  I tried to explain to police what had happened, while leaving out my friend’s name.  The fact my record was spotless, and I was in the vicinity during my apprehension was enough for them to take my word, rather than launch an in-depth investigation.  Unfortunately, they found his prints.  When I’d wished to protect him.”

Okay.  Now Dean was confused.  The story _wasn’t_ adding up.

“They took him in and detained him.  I feared the worst because of how my story may implicate him—I felt like I’d let him down, failed him.”  The fire returned, his intensity burned just as bright.  “I decided to represent myself, so I’d be able to personally refute any claims against him.  To be there to undo any damage my original statement, my own words, had caused.”

“You can’t imagine how horrid I felt.”  This time, Cas didn’t hide his clenched jaw or turmoil, nor the souring scent of ire.  Dean wasn’t ready, completely thrown for the loop, when Cas revealed, “That was, until he appeared as the prosecution's star witness.  Against me.”

“Woah!  What?!”  The omega didn’t know how to react.  “He ratted _on you_?  What the fuck did he ‘witness?!’”

“He told the jury I’d ripped off the car.  That I’d invited him for a ride—that’s why his fingerprints were in the vehicle.  When he _miraculously_ figured out it was stolen, he demanded I pull over.  ‘He wouldn’t be an accomplice, he had to get out,’ and that’s when _he_ tried to make things right and chucked the keys.”

Cas dropped his eyes, unable to look at Dean when he punched out an irate, “In his statement about the events, he allegedly tried to call 911 to report the vehicle stolen—so I attacked him.  That’s how he explained our scuffle.  He had the black eye to prove it, so why not?  Soon after, I fled the scene.”

A mix of spite and loss swirled around the pair when Cas finally divulged, “Because _I_  protected him, because I thought he was worth saving—I was convicted of grand theft auto.  Because _he_  refused to be helped, because he had to save his own ass—they added an assault charge.”

Dean was speechless.  Truly, honest-to-God speechless.

His alpha had given him exactly what he asked for: himself—raw and unedited.

Being betrayed like that, Dean couldn’t begin to image the pain.

With Cas’ head hung in recollection, Dean decided action spoke louder than words.  He began massaging the rock-hard weight from Cas’ shoulders.  He pressed his cheek against the mop of dark hair.  Dipping down to press his lip against Cas’ temple, Dean thought he’d found some words that could reassure him.

“You know,” he began, slowly and sweetly, “you’ve overcome it.  God, you’re the dream I hope my guys strive to be, you know?”

The alpha turned his head, spreading small kisses across Dean’s shoulder and neck.  “If they need any tips, I’m here.  Although, I’d say I’m a cautionary tale, rather than an inspiration.”

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean chuckled and playfully nipped at his ear.  “I’m never gonna leave here if you keep leading me in with catchy lines like that!”

“The worst part's out of the way.”  The omega caught a flash of a shy grin, confirming they were nearly out of the woods.  “This job wasn’t the dream you’d imagine.  It was my back up.”

“Please tell me you wanted to be a stripper.”  Dean suggestively trailed a finger down Cas’ chest, the mood lightening.

“Stripping was my back-up’s back-up.”  He smiled freely, snatching up Dean’s hand and kissing his knuckles.  “When it happened, I was almost done with Medical School.”

“Shut the fuck up—”  The words were instinctive—the moment they left, Dean felt guilty.

As if Cas hadn’t suffered enough loss, he was about to be a doctor, to boot?!

“Two semesters away.  With my record tarnished and my reputation ruined, no hospital or practice would hire me.  If time had rewound, they wouldn’t have considered accepting my application to the school.”  It was unbelievable, how…fucking casual he was about this.  “Nurses, on the other hand, are given more leeway.  I worked to get my record expunged, changed programs, and wound up here.”

Just like he’d been for the majority of this conversation, Dean was astonished.  “You’re ridiculously overqualified.   _And_  underpaid.”

“Precisely.”  Cas squeezed his hand.  “Which is why I’m given more responsibility around here.  And why I could deal with _you_.”

“Touche!”  Hah, if that wasn’t the truth...it took a special kind of person to handle Dean’s bullshit.  “I should’ve known from the beginning, you’re tricky!”

“Well, you _were_  very preoccupied.  Between your narcotic-induced daze and attempting to get in my pants; you had a full plate.”  And that was his quick-witted, cheeky Cas.

God, did Dean love the fuck out of him.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.  Have you seen you?“  He rolled his eyes theatrically, before weighing a decision.

He knew Cas wouldn’t want him to hold back his curiosity—just as Dean wouldn’t of Cas—and that very confidence had Dean asking, “What kind of sentence did they hit you with?”

“The court gave me four years.  After severing two, I was out on parole for a little over a year.”  Cas turned the entire reason this discussion had come up, back around on Dean.  “Which is how I know men on parole are fighting to get their lives back together.  Having someone like you would’ve greatly helped me.  I made the assumption you’d be open minded with my misadventure, since I also assumed you’d heard similar stories.”

“Huh.  Never thought of it that way.  Makes sense, though.”  He playfully mused, “Another form of fate bringing us together?”

With a shark-like grin, Cas countered, “How do you think I got in your car so easily to save you?”

And—goddamn—devilish, mischievous Cas just _got to him._

“It all makes sense now,” he confirmed, “Especially: you.  And your penchant for good intentions fucking you over.  Your, _Godhelpme_ , kindness, is gonna kill you.  Make me a promise?”  
  
“Anything.”  Cas’ curiosity was piqued and his scent was mischievous, knowing he was going to be the death of Dean in more ways than one.  “I’m your captive audience.”  
  
“Next time you have any bright ideas—run them by me, first.  Your heart is in the right place, but _Jesusfuck—_ you know how to get into trouble.  We need to break this bad habit of doing good, the wrong way.”  He stared Cas down, waiting, because while he was being playful...his mate had a pattern.  
  
It was obvious the alpha needed someone to guide his moral compass in a _smarter_ direction.  While Cas' heart was big, his reasoning left something to be desired.  
  
Cas opened his mouth, paused, and then started over.  “Yes.  I agree, that’s probably for the best.”  
  
“Perfect.”  Dean jeered his thumb to the door.  “How long, exactly, will it take until someone needs this room, troublemaker?”

“Needs?  Or _dares_ to check in on us?“   The alpha leaned in, their noses brushing.  “I don’t know if I mentioned this, but when you were first admitted to the hospital—before we even knew one another—I was informed the nurses could scent our bond from the hallway.”

Dean shivered when Cas issued the challenge: “Can you even _imagine_  what it’s like, now that we‘re mated?” and got _that look_  in his eyes.

“Yep.  Got it.  We’re gonna scare away the entire staff.”  Before his alpha could descend on him, Dean purred out, “And when I was first admitted to the hospital, my leg was shattered into a million pieces,” he kicked at the garbage can, containing the casting material.  “I’m fixed, _with_ a full range of motion.”

He replicated Cas‘ timbre and pacing: “Can you even  _imagine_  what being together will be like, now that I'm back in action?”

Dean had officially riled Cas up to the point of no return—Dean was lifted into the air—and in the next second, they were crashing down together on a hospital bed.  Oh—how they’d come full circle.

“I don’t have to imagine.”  The alpha hovered over him with a devious smile.  “I’m still on break for another twenty minutes.”

Oh, fuck, yes—this was news to Dean!  He must have clocked out when he was putting his pants on!  

“C’mere, alpha.  Every single one of those minutes are mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this year's Dean/Cas Tropefest!
> 
> Give the wonderful Deancebra some love, check out the art masterposts for our collab [Here on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734749) and [Here on tumblr](https://deancebra-art.tumblr.com/post/184696861573/for-this-years-tropefest-i-got-the-honour-of)
> 
> Thanks for reading! xoxo


End file.
